


can i go where you go? (can we always be this close?)

by dreaminglows



Series: dēute, as the poets say. [1]
Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Choi Yeonjun Is Bad At Feelings, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Slow Burn, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, also the au where Yeonjun can never say no to Beomgyu except for one time, beomjun-centric but there is taebin if you squint, the author listened to way too much taylor swift while writing, this is sooo goddamn slow it might get frustrating i am so sorry, while beomgyu is a big hopeful romantic, yeonjun is lowkey a cynical romantic too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:28:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28240188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreaminglows/pseuds/dreaminglows
Summary: This is how Yeonjun falls in love: in years that go by, in grains of sand that trickle down from an upside-down hourglass, slow yet certain, steady but sure. Like the rain— a drizzle at first, then a downpour, and then finally, the storm.This is how Yeonjun falls in love: in between wishes that aren't his to make, in a parting gift for an eighteenth birthday that stretches past the night, and all the years that dwindle in between.
Relationships: Choi Beomgyu/Choi Yeonjun, Choi Soobin/Kang Taehyun
Series: dēute, as the poets say. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068677
Comments: 10
Kudos: 87
Collections: TXT Secret Santa Fic Fest 2020





	can i go where you go? (can we always be this close?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [honeywaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeywaves/gifts).



> hi mia! this is—whatever this might be. honestly i've lost count how many times i've rewritten this before i can finally say i'm close to satisfied with how this turned out. but ALSO i would like to apologize i couldn't finish this right on time since it turned out a LOTTT longer when i've been rewriting and editing it so i decided to cut this in half instead since i didn't want to half-ass it HHHHHH
> 
> and i know this is most likely not the way you expected this prompt to be written, but i hope it's a good kind of different at least, good enough to be a christmas gift?;; but thank you so much for giving me the chance to write this. putting the plot together for this had been quite a ride and i did have fun. so i hope you have fun reading too! and i hope you're enjoying the holidays!
> 
> and to everyone else reading this, i hope it's satisfactory enough;;
> 
>  **Prompt:** _Since they were kids, Yeonjun had always dotted on Beomgyu. And one of the little traditions that they've made up is that for every year during Beomgyu's birthday, he can ask for as many wishes from Yeonjun based on his age. As his birthday nears, Beomgyu finds himself scrambling to make a little list of all the wishes he can ask from Yeonjun._
> 
> _(And Yeonjun doesn't hesitate to fulfill every single one of them.)_
> 
> fic title taken from 'Lover' by Taylor Swift.  
> (but if anything this fits Cornelia Street and You Are In Love more)  
> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6z02gOs8RAKXoNVVMrHUAo?si=ncRmeEb_SfSTrP-xN7djHw)

> " **magic exists.** who can doubt it, when there are rainbows and wildflowers, the music of the wind, and the silence of the stars? anyone who has loved has been touched by magic."
> 
> \- _nora roberts_

➷

Yeonjun doesn’t believe in a lot of things.

 _Things_ being a long bulleted list ranging from ghosts to superstitions to ninth grade Differential Calculus to the cute green-haired boy from the arcade Soobin claims he met a few summers back with an obsession for horror movies— and such. Things that are just either _too_ good to be true, or _too_ unreal to ever be considered real.

Soobin likes to call him a skeptic but in his defense, it isn't _really_ skepticism. Sort of.

Yeonjun thinks he’s just terribly objective, a realist more than a visionary. He doesn’t like believing in the impossible. In the things you can’t grasp and the things that are simply not _there._

So he doesn’t believe in wishes either. 

Wishes casted on cheap birthday candles melting over cake icing, or on coins thrown into water fountains. Wishes kissed on petals of dandelions floating in the wind, or whispered in secrecy to rare four-leaf clovers hiding in the earth.

Yeonjun isn’t a believer of a lot of things, so he doesn’t see the magic in the clock reading 11:11 in the evening. The numbers are taunting, ticking and waiting. He marks an _X_ on the calendar by his desk with a pink highlighter.

 _March 12,_ marked, done.

Yeonjun doesn’t make a wish, and the minute passes by like that. 

It’s 11:12, the clock ticks.

Beomgyu is always the Side B of the tape to everything Yeonjun is. Exactly everything he isn’t.

Where Yeonjun doubts, Beomgyu is a believer. Believes in almost everything Yeonjun doesn’t. Things like ghosts and superstitions and horoscopes and the great big unknown that lies ahead. He has always been the dreamer out of the two of them, big eyes always struck with wonder and small hands clasped tight, holding faith enough for them both.

So he sets aside coins for water fountains inside his pockets and blows on dandelions with his eyes closed. So he makes wishes at 11:11, and throws pebbles at Yeonjun's bedroom window at 11:15, unannounced because he’s Beomgyu.

Spontaneous and unpredictable. A lightning strike casted by a storm cloud, but Yeonjun always knows him beforehand like a weather report.

“I’m going to call the cops on you,” Yeonjun threatens lightly, arms crossed and body leaning to the side of his window frame.

His room is on the second floor, so Beomgyu looks even smaller in this view. Dark curls falling just a little above his eyelashes, orange knit sweater burning an image brightly against the dark of the night.

“You _adore_ me, you wouldn’t,” Beomgyu teases, craning his neck up to look at Yeonjun, eyes shining like they always do. “And it’s my birthday so technically, you aren’t allowed to do that.”

“ _Technically,_ there’s still 45 minutes left before the 13th, and I’m pretty sure I’m legally allowed to do that actually. Birthday or no birthday.”

This is an exchange they’ve had before. It’s light as a cloud and doesn’t mean anything.

 _“Hyung,"_ Beomgyu purses his lips and whines. “Are you gonna let me in or not? I think it’s colder here than inside a prison cell.”

“You literally tried to break open my window. I don’t think letting you in is a good idea.”

“But see, I brought all thirteen of Nicholas Sparks’ movies. Your pick. Completely your movie choice tonight. Oh, and ice cream. A whole tub.” Beomgyu lifts up his backpack in the air, almost stumbling off the pavement, and then grimaces. “It’s mint choco too.”

Yeonjun laughs, the side of his eyes crinkling. “Ya, do you like hyung that much? Look at you, always knowing the way to hyung’s heart,” he teases because it’s easy to do. 

Talking, teasing, bickering— it's always so, so easy to do.

Beomgyu just rolls his eyes at him like he always does. “ _Hyung.”_

“Alright, stay there. I’ll come get you,” Yeonjun tells him before closing his windows and pulling down the blinds.

This is also an exchange they’ve had before, numerous times. Too many for his fingers to keep count on. It always means the same.

Yeonjun’s room is on the second floor, just as the rest of his house. The ground floor is where his family’s record store lies, now closed for the day. He flicks the light switch on and his footsteps echo across the quiet of the room like ripples of water.

“Hyung, it’s _so_ cold. I can’t feel my hands,” Beomgyu complains, but he’s smiling at him from outside the store, blinding even against the glass panels. 

It’s familiar, like photographs burned on film. It’s a sight Yeonjun knows all too well.

“Damn, you look like _shit._ ”

“Yeah, I’m going back upstairs,” Yeonjun says but he’s approaching the front door.

Beomgyu laughs, and it rings in his ears. “Can I borrow your clothes to sleep in tonight?”

“You would still take them even if I say no,” Yeonjun unlocks the door to let him in. The wind brushes past his face immediately, biting down on his skin colder than he had expected. “You literally just came from your house. Why didn’t you pack your own clothes?”

“Obviously because it breaks tradition?” Beomgyu looks at him like he’s stupid. “We’ve been doing this since I turned twelve. Hyung, I thought you would get the memo by now.”

“You purposely forgetting to bring a change of clothes is _not_ tradition. You just wanna raid my closet every chance you get.” Yeonjun flicks him lightly on the forehead, earning another pout from the younger boy. “And since when were you such a devout follower of tradition in the first place?”

“All my life actually. Thanks for noticing.” Beomgyu sticks his tongue out before walking past him to get inside. 

The wooden floor creaks a little under his step as he makes his way towards the vinyls on the rack, slender fingers going through the display.

“By the way, don’t ever let my dad come back here again,” he glances up at him. “He bought a Stevie Wonder vinyl three weeks ago— _You Are The Sunshine of My Life_ , 1973— and has _not_ stopped playing it ever since.”

“Well, I can’t just deny a valued customer of his purchase like that,” Yeonjun shrugs, locking the front door close again. “And I thought you like Stevie Wonder?”

“ _Occasionally_ like Stevie Wonder. I like him when I don’t hear him singing in our living room for more than 15 hours a day.”

He puts the vinyl record back on the shelf and checks the time on his watch. “Okay, so it’s 11:21. We have 39 minutes left, which means I have 20 minutes to shower while you set up everything in your room.”

“You move like this is your house.”

“Oh, Yeonjunie hyung,” Beomgyu smiles at him sweetly, gently patting him on the shoulder. “What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is yours, remember?”

Yeonjun raises an eyebrow. “More like, what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is also only just yours.”

“You said it, not me,” Beomgyu simply says over his shoulder, giggling as he makes his way for the stairs, his busy steps a contrast to the quiet night. “I’m using your strawberry shower gel by the way!”

“Don’t use half of the damn bottle again!” Yeonjun yells back, flicking off the switch before he follows suit.

This is tradition, just like Beomgyu said.

Yeonjun’s bed is never big enough for them both, so he sets down the futon on the floor, and then the pillows, and then the food he ordered hours ago on the small table next to it. A box of fried chicken and a reheated pan of pizza fresh out of the microwave, both of Beomgyu’s favorites. His tub of ice cream is in the fridge, mint chocolate as promised.

Yeonjun turns his laptop on and plugs in Beomgyu’s USB, clicking on the folder named _movie night with YJ._

This is tradition. A scene that has unfolded in front of his eyes before, one he has lived through over and over. It’s familiar, and unchanging, and Yeonjun is comfortable.

Beomgyu steps out of the shower thirty minutes later, hair damp and smelling like strawberries. Yeonjun’s Louvre Museum souvenir shirt is a size too big on him.

“Ten minutes off schedule,” Yeonjun announces from where he lies down waiting on his bed, scrolling through his phone.

“Time does not exist when you’re inside the shower so you can’t blame me,” Beomgyu simply shrugs. “Nine minutes left?”

“Eight.”

Beomgyu crashes on the futon with a contented sigh. “Wow, you _actually_ bought food this time. Remember when all we had last year was your overcooked ramyeon and we were watching _Gonjiam_ of all movies,” he laughs at the memory. “Special day today, huh? You like me that much, hyung?”

Yeonjun gets up from his bed and moves next to where Beomgyu had lied down on the futon, throwing a pillow at his face on his way. “Oh, shut up. You know why.”

Beomgyu giggles, and it rings in his ears again like a storm warning. He scoots closer, their heads bumping softly against each other. Pink strands on black curls. “Six minutes.”

The proximity is familiar too. This is a distance, and the lack thereof, that he knows all too well. The sound of Beomgyu’s breathing. The heat of his arm against his own. The weight of his leg entangled with his. It’s burned on Yeonjun’s skin and memory, long-lasting.

“Five,” he whispers under his breath.

“Have you picked a movie?”

“Let’s go with _The Notebook_ tonight.”

“Of course you would choose that. Hyung, you’re _so_ predictable,” Beomgyu giggles, a little out of breath. “You’ve seen that movie for like, twenty times now.”

“Says the same person who has watched it with me in all those twenty times. You literally love it just as much as me,” Yeonjun stirs so he’s facing him. Beomgyu’s eyelashes are long, his eyes black and glinting. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You’re turning eighteen.”

Beomgyu smiles. It’s not smug, or teasing, or sarcastic. It’s just a smile, small but it fits. “I’m turning eighteen.”

He knows what he means.

_You’re graduating. You’re leaving this small town. You’re leaving me._

Yeonjun doesn’t say any of it. There’s still time left for that.

He stirs again so he’s facing up front, back fully against the soft comforter. “Have you decided what to wish for?”

Yeonjun doesn’t believe in wishes, but Beomgyu likes to dream.

“Oh yeah. Absolutely,” Beomgyu happily answers. “The annual _Beomgyu’s Birthday Wishlist Choi Yeonjun Needs To Fulfill_ is absolutely ready down to the finest of details. I’m going all out this year by the way, so _you_ better be ready.”

Yeonjun chuckles under his breath. “That’s what you say every year.”

Beomgyu laughs along. It’s full, and loud, and it melts in his eardrums. “Well, I’m going all out even _more_. I thought of everything properly this time.”

“As long as we don’t get arrested.” Yeonjun checks his phone. “Two minutes.”

Beomgyu stretches his arms upward, towards the ceiling. Like he’s reaching out for something Yeonjun can’t quite see.

“Hyung, is a person’s 18th birthday really that magical like they say?” he wonders into space, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck on the ceiling Yeonjun hadn’t bothered taking down since he was six.

Yeonjun looks at the same constellation. “Depends, I think. Mine was boring.”

“We went bowling on your birthday.”

“I _suck_ at bowling.”

Beomgyu laughs again. It’s always so, so easy to earn his laughs.

Yeonjun feels him shift on his side so he’s facing him. Skin on skin like the first spark from a firecracker.

“Hyung.”

“Hm?”

“Will you bring me that magic this year?”

Yeonjun hums, closing his eyes. 11:59. One minute.

This is an exchange they’ve had before. Not countless. He can keep up with how many times with just one hand, but it’s familiar. It’s something Yeonjun knows; something etched on his skin, pressed and burned, flickering in his memory.

This is what Yeonjun believes in: there is magic in a moment like this. A moment that dances in between the mundane and the familiar. It seeps in the quiet and in the normal. In the walls of his small room. In the irises of Beomgyu’s wondering eyes. It’s so familiar that it’s easily missed.

He gets up from where he had lied down on the futon. Beomgyu is staring at him, dark curls and bright starry eyes.

Yeonjun ruffles his hair. It’s March 13, his phone blinks. 12AM.

“Happy birthday, kid.”

Beomgyu pouts. _I’m only two years younger_ , he knows that’s what he’s thinking. But it melts into a soft smile, genuine and blinding.

“Thank you, hyung.”

Beomgyu is eighteen now.

And Yeonjun thinks if he was gonna look back on this moment, when he’s settled in the big city, windows overlooking what’s between skyscrapers that stretch up across the horizon and busy streets that never sleep, he would think the magic began here. In Yeonjun’s small and messy bedroom, tucked in between dirty laundry on the floor and comic books haphazardly stacked on wooden shelves.

Yeonjun wants to tell him he’s wrong, that he had pinned the tack on the wrong starting line, but he won’t be in that city when he wonders. He won’t be looking at that same window when he asks.

Yeonjun picks up his laptop, and clicks on the video file. “Don’t cry on my shirt again, okay?”

Beomgyu grins. It’s wide and full. “No promises.”

➷

(Yeonjun doesn’t believe in a lot of things, but he believes in the magic of an encounter. One so special you feel it in the rush dancing on your skin, moving to fill in the spaces between your ribs like it’s air taking on a physical form. The memory of the encounter fades, the little details dwindle over time, but the feeling lingers still.)

This is how the magic starts for Yeonjun: 

He is six turning seven in a few months, prideful and obnoxious, and there’s a name he’s never heard of before being said over and over by his bestfriend, Soobin.

“Who is _Beomgyu_?”

It’s March, another bright afternoon spent in Yeonjun’s front yard. The cherry blossoms aren’t in full bloom yet but they’re almost there. Yeonjun is showing Soobin his newly bought RC toy car, a new Hot Wheels model on top of that, but he’s nowhere near as interested in it as he is with this ‘Beomgyu.’

“He’s my new friend,” Soobin tells him, crouched down by the porch steps, hands cupping his rosy cheeks.

Yeonjun stares. He has never seen him this happy outside of Spiderman movies shown on TV, or chocolate cake served for dessert.

“Junie, he is _so_ cool. He draws prettily and his eyes are _so_ sparkly too,” Soobin continues to gush. “And do you know he has a bike? Junie, it’s _red_ too like Spiderman! He told me I could borrow when I visit his house.”

“I have a bike too, you know,” Yeonjun pouts. He doesn’t actually have one and Soobin knows that.

“You should meet him,” Soobin suggests excitedly. “I think you would be great friends.”

Yeonjun tugs on the controller, and the toy car revs up. He’s not really interested but he doesn’t say it out loud.

Beomgyu, as it turns out, is Soobin’s new neighbor from across the street. Which means he’s Yeonjun’s new neighbor from three houses away too. He finds out when his mother dresses him up one evening for a birthday party they’re invited to.

“I met him this afternoon. Very lovely boy,” his mom shares as she combs through his hair in front of the bathroom mirror. “He’s younger than you too. He turns five today.”

“What a baby.”

His mother laughs and pinches his cheek, “Junie, you’re a baby too.”

“I’m _almost_ seven.”

“Yep, still a baby, honey.” She holds his shoulders with both hands and leans down so they’re meeting eye to eye in the mirror. “Junie, you’ve always wanted a baby brother, right?”

Yeonjun nods slowly. “But Mom said I can’t have one because God only promised one angel to fly to Mom.”

“Well, God can send the other angels to other moms but you can still have them as a baby brother, you know?” his mother tells him with a soft smile. “Maybe Beomgyu can be your baby brother.”

Yeonjun scrunches his nose, displeased. A small habit he’s developed over the years. “Soobin is already my baby brother.”

“You can always have two,” she laughs. “I just want you to be good and make friends today, okay? Be a good hyung for Beomgyu.”

Yeonjun huffs. “I’m always good.”

“Yes, you are. You are the goodest boy,” she kisses him on the cheek. “Do you want to give Beomgyu the gift yourself?”

Yeonjun doesn’t really want to if he were to be honest, but he’s a good boy, and good boys give gifts on birthdays and are nice to birthday boys so he nods and holds the small gift bag with his own small hands.

The gift bag is pink, and has yellow and orange stars printed on it. There’s a hole big enough for him to take a peek in so he does when his mother leaves for a moment. Inside the gift bag is a sketchpad, the big one Yeonjun had always wanted.

 _He draws prettily_ , he remembers Soobin say. Yeonjun draws too but he’s never heard him say that to him.

He walks towards Beomgyu’s house that night even more upset, grip on the gift bag tight. His mother just shakes her head and laughs. “Silly boy,” like she would always say.

As it turns out, Beomgyu’s house is bigger and is painted in all white, and has a pool in the backyard. It’s a simple two-storey with a balcony but for six-year old Yeonjun it was a whole palace. Like he’s in Buckingham or Kensington, both of which he can’t spell just yet but he remembers seeing in his mother’s collection of glossy magazines.

 _Soobin can’t come_ , is what he hears first when they get inside. Something about a family trip out of town for the weekend.

And Yeonjun almost gets upset. Almost. This was Beomgyu’s birthday party, and he’s Soobin’s friend and not Yeonjun’s. And Soobin is the one who’s interested in him and Yeonjun couldn’t care less, but he’s here, with Beomgyu’s gift in his hands, and Soobin isn’t. It’s a little unfair, and a little frustrating.

Yeonjun could get upset, except Beomgyu isn’t entirely as boring or as dull as he had selfishly hoped for him to be five minutes before his mother opened the door to his house.

No, he’s _bright_. That’s what he notices first.

Beomgyu is bright, like the glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Like the glow-in-the-dark stars in his bedroom. Twinkling eyes and rosy cheeks, dark curls and the baby blue jumper. Like a doll. 

_Beomgyu is a doll,_ and Yeonjun is just awestruck.

He understands then why Soobin couldn't stop talking about him.

"Come on, honey. Introduce yourself," his mother nudges gently. He feels the warmth in his cheeks run down to his fingertips. Beomgyu is looking at him expectantly, wide eyes and full attention on him.

(Yeonjun doesn’t believe in a lot of things, but he believes in the magic of an encounter.) 

"Happy birthday, Beomgyu," Yeonjun says shyly, one hand gripping the hem of his mother’s shirt tightly while the other shakily passes Beomgyu the gift bag. He doesn’t really mind not having the sketchpad anymore. “My name is Yeonjun.”

"Yeonjun hyung," Beomgyu repeats, smiling. It's wide and contagious. 

He takes the gift bag from him, and Yeonjun notices how Beomgyu's hands are a size smaller than his. "You're Soobinie's friend, right? Do you wanna go up to my room?"

Yeonjun looks at his mom first before hesitantly nodding yes, and Beomgyu just lights up even more, reaching out to take his hand. Yeonjun lets Beomgyu lead the way.

Like a lantern, bright and aglow.

“Do you like Hot Wheels?” Beomgyu innocently asks before turning the knob.

And there it just clicks. There goes Yeonjun’s first smile of the night. Soobin was right; they would be great friends.

And he thinks about that for the rest of the night; thinks about how Soobin had been right, and how Yeonjun just understands. Beomgyu is far more interesting than a remote-controlled car or a sketchpad almost half his size, because Beomgyu burns bright and alive.

He’s so easy to talk to even when he’s about two years younger than him. He laughs and giggles at every little thing Yeonjun says like he just breathes out joy instead of air, and he looks at Yeonjun with endless wonder like he’s the moon brought up close for him to touch.

Beomgyu is a good boy. Beomgyu has always been good. Yeonjun wants to be a good hyung too.

(It didn't mean much back then, but when he looks back at it years later, he thinks about how funny of a coincidence it was that there were no other kids in their neighborhood then other than him and Soobin. And how Soobin couldn’t come, and how Beomgyu hasn’t met his new school friends yet that time.

So it was just Yeonjun and Beomgyu, in the small magical bubble they wrapped themselves in inside the four corners of Beomgyu’s bedroom. 

Yeonjun thinks about how they would've ended up much, much differently if things didn't fall into place the way it did. He thinks everything is a funny coincidence, almost like it was fated.)

Beomgyu blows the candles on his birthday cake at 8pm, and they both head back to his room after they finish eating their fill.

The walls in his room are painted blue like ocean waves, and there are toy cars littered everywhere on the floor. Beomgyu climbs up his bed, gleaming eyes looking curiously at Yeonjun who had chosen to sit on a bean bag close to him.

"Hyung, I think I made the wrong wish."

Yeonjun looks at him in question.

Beomgyu is frowning, eyes furrowed like it's a big thing. It is— _a big thing_ —when you're five and you think birthday wishes are your only chances to hope.

"Really? What did you wish for?" Yeonjun asks out of curiosity.

"No, I can't tell you," Beomgyu shakes his head animatedly, dark curls bouncing on his forehead. "You shouldn't say your birthday wish out loud, hyung, or else it won't come true!"

Yeonjun frowns back. "But didn't you say you made the wrong wish?"

Beomgyu thinks about it for a moment, before shaking his head again. "No, I still can't tell you. My birthday wish will be wasted."

"If it’s a bad wish, then it’s okay for it to be wasted."

"It's not a bad wish. It's good," Beomgyu sulks, hugging a pillow close to his chest. "It's good, but it's not great. I just thought of a great wish now but I have to wait for next year again."

Yeonjun doesn’t really understand, like how Soobin doesn’t understand why he won’t tell Santa Claus from the mall what he wants for Christmas or why he won’t close his eyes for five seconds before blowing on his birthday candles.

His mom says Yeonjun is an impatient boy. Never been the type to wait for anything, so he doesn’t like to wish on birthdays or Christmas or any other holiday. If he wants something, he asks and does what he can to get it. But if he can’t then he just settles for something else. It doesn’t have to be complicated. He doesn’t need to wait.

But Yeonjun tries to understand why it’s a big deal for Beomgyu, musing over it for a moment before his eyes land on his present, now unopened and resting on Beomgyu's bedside table. 

He comes up with an idea.

"Wait, the sketchpad. Give it to me."

"But it's your gift?" Beomgyu asks but does what he's told.

"Well, I'm getting you an even better gift," Yeonjun announces as he stands up and looks around his room. "Do you have a pencil?"

Beomgyu doesn't understand what he's doing but he simply nods and hands him a box of assorted colored pencils. 

Yeonjun picks a blue one and flips open the sketchpad, making a space for himself on the bedroom floor. Beomgyu gets down from where he's crouched on top of the bed, peeking from behind him curiously as he writes big blocks across the width of the paper in blue pencil lead.

> _Beomgyu's Birthday Wishes_
> 
> _1._
> 
> _2_
> 
> _3._
> 
> _4._
> 
> _5._

Yeonjun gives him back the pencil and the sketchpad with a proud grin. "There. Now you don't have to wait for next year anymore. I can just be your birthday genie right now!" 

"My birthday genie?" 

Yeonjun nods, "Yeah! Since you're five years old now, you get five wishes from me." Yeonjun shows him his palm, fingers spread out. "Five wishes. That's _way_ better than just one birthday wish, right?"

Beomgyu looks at his hand held out and then Yeonjun’s proud face. It takes a moment before the smile makes its way to the corners of his lips, bright and burning and forever shining. 

"Hyung will do that for me?"

Yeonjun grins wider, "Of course." 

_Beomgyu is a good boy. I want to be a good hyung too._

Beomgyu looks down on the sketchpad, small fingers tracing down the trail of blue pencil lead, and then looks back at Yeonjun again. "Does that mean when I turn six, I get _six_ wishes too?"

Yeonjun holds a hand by his chin, pretending like he's in deep thought. "Hm, maybe? If you invite me to your party again and we are still friends next year, then yes, you do."

Beomgyu laughs, and it rings and melts in his ears. He kneels down on the floor and starts writing down on the paper. His handwriting is squiggly and shaky, but it shines in genuity.

> _1\. Friends with Yeonjun hyung forever_

“You don’t need to wish for that,” Yeonjun looks away, embarrassed. “I’m right here.”

“But I want to,” Beomgyu looks up to him with a wide grin, eyes crinkling, bright like starlight. “Yeonjun hyung will grant that wish for me, right?”

_Beomgyu is good. I want to be good too._

He ruffles his hair, smiling. “Of course I will. I’m your Yeonjun hyung after all.”

Beomgyu smiles back. He shines even brighter than a supernova.

And this is Chapter 1, Yeonjun thinks.

He pins the tack in this memory. This is the startline. He is six turning seven in a few months and this is where his magic starts.

  
  


➷

  
  


This is Chapter 2.

"You two move like a married couple," Soobin's face contorts in disgust. 

He's at the bar counter, sleeves of his school uniform rolled up to his elbow while he spreads grape jam on toast. It’s 7:30 in the morning when Yeonjun checks the clock on the wall.

"Good morning to you too, Soobin," he greets, yawning as he opens the fridge to get water. "And here I was thinking you’ve been married to me since we were six. Sugarplum, is breakfast ready?"

 _"Sugarplum_ ," Soobin inhales sharply, setting down the butterknife with a loud thud like he's been insulted straight to his face. "You did _not_ just call me _sugarplum_.”

Yeonjun chugs down a bottle of water before speaking, “Why not? Sugarplums are cute. You look like a sugarplum.”

“Oh no. _No_ ,” Soobin profusely rejects, shaking his head like he’s about to do the nagging of his lifetime. “From here on out, Choi Yeonjun, you are forbidden from ever throwing at me your— pathological flirting, okay? What will you do if Taehyun hears, huh?”

Yeonjun closes the lid tight before putting it back on the fridge, looking at him like he’s grown another head. “If _Taehyun_ hears?”

“Yeah, Taehyun?” Soobin’s making weird hand gestures towards the door. “Like what if he just suddenly pops out that door and hears you, what will we do then? Oh Taehyun, he's just joking. Haha, of course I'm not married. I'm totally single and would love to go to the graduation ball with you."

 _Taehyun_ , as terribly aforementioned, is Kang Taehyun from high school. Kang Taehyun from student council with beach blond hair and big brown eyes, a year younger than Soobin but also a year’s worth of being Soobin’s subject of achingly hopeless, repressed pining he only has Yeonjun to cry to.

Yeonjun stares at his bestfriend like he's lost his damn mind. Soobin just bites on his toast.

"You're _delirious_ , you know that?" Yeonjun scrunches his nose, walking past him to get to the cupboards by the sink. "Look, Taehyun is _not_ gonna pop out of that door and he is _not_ gonna ask you to the dance if you’ve never even given him the slightest bit of hint that you’re even remotely interested in him.”

“I’ve dropped hints before!”

Yeonjun looks at him blankly.

Soobin’s shoulders drop. “I think.”

Yeonjun sighs, “Literally just go ask him yourself. I'm sure he'll say yes to you."

"Statistics?"

"About 10% but who knows."

"God," Soobin sighs exasperatedly. He spins his bar stool to face his direction. "Okay, but I do plan on just telling him and getting it done with. Eventually. At least before college. You know, get that weight off my chest before I leave?"

Yeonjun turns the coffee maker on with Soobin’s last words ringing in his ears. _Before he leaves_.

Right _,_ Soobin is _leaving_ too. Soobin has dreams to chase and a college scholarship in his hands. He’s leaving in a month too. Like Beomgyu, like everyone else.

_Leaving. Everybody is leaving. Everybody leaves where he waits._

Yeonjun immediately dismisses the thought. He saunters his way back to the bar counter with an empty bowl and a box of Fruit Loops.

“You? _Confessing_?” Yeonjun asks, the corners of his lips tugging up in amusement. "Look at our little Binnie growing up now. And how do you plan on doing that exactly?"

Soobin grimaces, head in hands. "I'll think of… something. Soon. I will. I really will."

Yeonjun pats him on the shoulder in consolation. “Hey, it doesn’t have to be anything grand or what. Just tell him how you feel. That’s what matters the most, right?" He lets him go and reaches for the cereal box again. "And when he rejects you, well, you know where to find me, right? I’ll always have the soju ready.”

“God, you’re unbearable,” Soobin scoffs, but he knows Yeonjun means well. He opens the jar of grape jam again. “Anyway, where did the birthday boy go?”

Yeonjun pours the carton of milk on his bowl. “Still asleep. Did he let you in?”

“Yeah, he opened the door for me earlier.” Soobin puts down the toast on his plate and squints at the older. “Don’t think I didn’t notice him wearing _your_ shirt the moment I saw him this morning. You literally bought that one with me at the thrift shop down the block.”

Yeonjun rolls his eyes. Of course he’d notice. He can't count how many times they've had this conversation over the years, can't count how many 7AM mornings have been weaved the same way as this.

Soobin looks at him in that funny way again. It's that look he gives when he thinks he knows something he really doesn’t. He creases his forehead and crosses his arms over his chest.

Yeonjun just shrugs. “Beomgyu always steals my clothes. You know that already.”

"Did he drop by in the middle of the night again?"

Yeonjun takes a mouthful of cereal, other hand holding a finger up. "BG birthday tradition numero uno. Unplanned movie night."

"On a _Wednesday_ evening. You stayed up until four again, didn’t you?" 

“Well, his birthday falls on a Wednesday so what can we do?”

“He has _school_ in the morning. You have _work_ ,” his bestfriend just narrows his eyes at him. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you guys are actually dating and are just keeping it from me.”

“Except you know better than that, Bin,” Yeonjun rolls his eyes at him. "Can't two good friends just enjoy a movie on a lovely Wednesday evening with a bucket of chicken?"

This is also a conversation they've had before. Yeonjun tries to think it doesn't mean anything each time.

Soobin raises a brow at him. “Of course it’s fine. We do that sometimes, except I know that _you_ —” He stops, pauses before smiling at something behind his back. “Oh, well, speak of the devil. Hey birthday boy, good morning.”

Yeonjun turns around and sees Beomgyu drag his feet towards the kitchen, one hand rubbing his sleepy eyes. His dark curls are all over the place, and his shirt is riding up on one side that's distracting enough to make him look away. 

Yeonjun immediately gets up to pour him a mug of coffee. Soobin just fakes a gag. 

“What did I say? A married couple.”

“Will you shut up?” Yeonjun berates. 

He pours himself a mug as well before handing the other one to Beomgyu who has settled down on a seat by the bar counter. He slides down on the spot next to him too.

“Thanks, hyung,” Beomgyu says, holding the mug of coffee with both hands. “Who’s getting married?”

“Soobin, if he gets his shit together,” Yeonjun immediately responds and makes a face at Soobin who was about to retort. “He might ask Taehyun to the grad ball.”

“Now why are you putting words in my mouth? I never said that,” Soobin kicks his leg from under the counter. “I said I was gonna tell him how I feel but _not_ on the graduation ball. That’s like, two weeks away from now. _Way too soon_.”

“You’ve liked him since _last year_. There is absolutely nothing ‘too soon’ about that,” Beomgyu air-quotes, pointing it out like it’s the obvious because it is. 

“He’s right, you know.” Yeonjun nods in agreement. “One year is enough time.”

Soobin squints his eyes at them. “Of course you two would gang up on me. Banes of my existence, both of you.”

“Two weeks, Bin,” Beomgyu holds up two fingers. “It’s literally your only time left before you part ways for college. Go for it already!” 

He sets down his mug and takes Yeonjun’s spoon to get a mouthful of cereal for himself. Yeonjun ignores Soobin’s questioning gaze burning holes in his head and drinks from his own mug.

“Whatever. It’ll happen when it happens,” Soobin dismisses the topic. He pulls his bar stool closer to the counter. “Anyway, enough about me. The main character today is _you_ , Choi Beomgyu, lovely friend of mine. A little birdie told me Hyunjin asked you to the dance?”

Yeonjun’s ears perk up at the mention of the name. “Hyunjin? As in Hwang Hyunjin?”

“Yeah. You know, long hair, blond, fairly attractive. Does fencing.” Soobin lists down before pointing an accusing finger at Beomgyu. “And then this little gremlin had the audacity to turn him down.”

Beomgyu just shrugs, “He’s not really my type.”

“Hyunjin is _everybody_ ’s type. You don’t get to choose.”

“Damn, go to the dance with him then if you really think so, but I’m really not interested,” Beomgyu laughs before finishing his coffee. He gets down from the bar stool and makes his way towards the sink

“And I wasn’t really looking for anyone either. I’m already taking Yeonjun hyung.”

There’s a pause that follows, stretching a second too long before Yeonjun chokes on his coffee and burns his mouth. Soobin lets out an amused ‘ _oh’_.

 _“Excuse me?”_ It comes out more strangled than Yeonjun had intended.

Beomgyu looks at him like it’s nothing much. He points a finger at him. “I’m taking _you_. Save a suit for then.”

“But— _why_?” 

Yeonjun could list a few things as to why, all of them reasonable enough. It’s not like he really minds. It’s just a high school dance and he’s been to one before, and Beomgyu is great company so it’s fine, really. It’s just one night.

But he doesn’t know why he feels himself move to the edge of his seat waiting for an answer.

“So Hyunjin isn’t your type, but Yeonjun hyung is?” Soobin side-comments, obviously enjoying the turn of events. “Interesting. Very interesting.”

“It’s number 17 on my wishlist,” Beomgyu simply says, ignoring them both. “That’s second to the last though so no need to worry about that just yet.” 

Yeonjun shifts from his seat. _Right_ , the wishlist. Right. Beomgyu’s wishlist has always been random and spontaneous, and Yeonjun has never asked why for anything on the list before, so he doesn’t need to ask for this one too.

It’s Beomgyu after all, a lightning strike from a storm cloud, and Yeonjun is a weather report just catching on from signals.

He doesn’t need to ask. Beomgyu doesn’t need to answer.

_Right?_

“And speaking of that, let me grab the sketchpad first.”

“You still haven’t answered why,” Yeonjun whispers, almost inaudible, but Beomgyu refuses to explain any further. He scurries off towards Yeonjun’s room as Soobin continues to muffle his laugh with his hand. Yeonjun kicks him on the leg.

“ _You still haven’t answered why_ ,” Soobin snorts. “I knew it. I fucking knew it. Choi Beomgyu has a _crush_. On you. _I knew it_.”

“He just asked me to accompany him. It doesn’t mean anything,” Yeonjun bites the inside of his cheek. “I’m his bestfriend. It makes sense.”

“ _Hello_? Am I not your bestfriend too? Do you see me asking you to the dance as back-up in case the thing with Taehyun goes into complete disaster?” Soobin points out in frustration. “No, right? Come on now.”

“You and him are two completely different people with two completely different thought processes,” Yeonjun concludes the discussion. “Friends can take each other to a dance. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“God, I have never met anyone more stubborn and more fake-oblivious than you.” Soobin accuses, shaking his head. “But when I’m right, you’ll never hear the end of me saying ‘I told you so’. I’m telling you this beforehand.”

Yeonjun just rolls his eyes and moves his way towards the sink. 

“You’re so ridiculous. You’ve literally liked him since seventh grade and now—” 

“ _Oh my god_ , when will you stop talking?” Yeonjun hisses, eyes widening as he makes a U-turn to shut Soobin up with a smack in the arm. 

Soobin smacks him back. “ _Completely_ ridiculous. Do you guys think you’re in some stupid rom-com or something?” He drops his hands to his side in frustration. “ _One year is enough time_ , he said. You’ve liked him since you were _thirteen_ , you’re turning _twenty—_ ”

“I’ve _moved on_ ,” Yeonjun whisper-yells, checking to see if his bedroom door was left closed. Thankfully, it is. “Quit bringing that up already. It was a stupid childhood crush. It’s been over for _years_.”

“ _Over for years_ , he says,” Soobin snorts. Yeonjun feels himself burning all the way to his fingertips. 

He’s over it. He really is. Childhood crushes never linger. It’s just one page of one chapter of a book. There are no footnotes of it in the rest of the story. It only stays in that one singular page.

Yeonjun’s already past that singular page. He forces himself not to dwell on the conversation.

Beomgyu comes back a few minutes later with the sketchpad in hand. It’s old now, age evident in the wrinkled lines on the cover. 

“Here you go,” he says, handing it to Yeonjun with a proud smirk. “I made that with much deliberation and careful thought so no complaints, okay?”

Soobin peeks next to him. “Did Pinkie Pie throw up on this or something?”

“No,” Beomgyu glares at him. “I’m a Rainbow Dash kind of guy.”

The page is sparkling from the text down to the washi tape borders. Beomgyu’s neat handwriting in purple and pink glitter ink.

> _**Choi Beomgyu’s 18th Birthday Wishlist** _
> 
> **_(that Choi Yeonjun is legally obligated to fulfill)_ **

  1. > _Get a pet dog. Give him the sickest name ever._

  2. > _Go out past curfew. Walk the streets at 3AM._

  3. > _Catch the sunrise on a rooftop view._

  4. > _Diner @ 5AM._

  5. > _Go to a nightclub and get unbelievably drunk._

  6. > _Experience a hangover! And be taken care of during a hangover._

  7. > _Go on a fancy dinner date. Champagne is a MUST._

  8. > _SHOPPING. Get a Yeonjun-approved outfit for the first day in college!_

  9. > _Receive a long heartfelt letter. Stationary and fancy envelopes and all that shit!_

  10. > _Go on a camping trip._

  11. > _Drive a car for a road trip._

  12. > _Run down the shore during sunset._

  13. > _Go stargazing and slow dancing under the moonlight._

  14. > _~~GOD THIS IS EMBARRASSING idk how to write this FUCK u’ll know when u do~~ Codename: Ed Sheeran_

  15. > _Go busking. Sing a song in front of a crowd._

  16. > _Receive a bouquet of flowers on a special night._

  17. > _Attend graduation ball._

  18. 


Beomgyu points a finger at one bullet. “Number 1 is today’s itinerary, by the way.”

“Get a _dog_?” Yeonjun reads the top of the list in disbelief. “Are you serious? You’re literally moving to Seoul next month and you’re getting a _dog_? Do you even know how to take care of one?”

“Hey, I said no complaints,” Beomgyu reprimands, pouting. “Also, there’s always Youtube anyway. It’ll be fine.”

Yeonjun looks at him warmly, “Choi Beomgyu, you are batshit crazy.”

Beomgyu shrugs, “I’d like to have a little quirk in life. Thanks.”

Yeonjun shakes his head before skimming through the list again. “You didn’t put anything for number 18?”

“I haven’t thought of anything just yet. I'll fill it up soon.”

“What are you even trying to write for number 14? Ed Sheeran—”

“Why do you have so many questions?” Beomgyu takes the sketchpad from him and closes it shut. “Enough of that. Anyway, for today’s itinerary, I’m gonna go shower and when we’re done getting ready, let’s go to the pet shop before lunch. Sounds good?”

Soobin interjects immediately, raising a hand. “Uh, hello? What do you mean before lunch? We have graduation practice at 9AM today, remember?”

Beomgyu waves him off. “Small matter, Soobin.”

“Oh no,” Soobin exclaims, walking towards him. “You are _not_ skipping again. You already skipped last week.”

“What are you, my mother?” Beomgyu huffs, turning to Yeonjun for help, but the latter just apologetically shrugs at him. He turns back to Soobin again, upset. “I already know where to go. We don’t need two extra weeks just for practice. I’m still graduating either way.”

“Choi Beomgyu.”

“It’s my birthday!” Beomgyu whines.

“Kkyu, just go,” Yeonjun says, the nickname unintentionally slipping. It’s a fond and easy taste on his tongue. “I have to watch over the store this morning anyway. I’ll pick you up at 3 then we can go.”

Beomgyu pouts, obviously upset. “This _sucks_.”

“Go shower already. The dog isn’t going anywhere,” Soobin continues to nag, picking up his plate to put in the sink.

“Alright, fine. I’ll go get ready for school,” Beomgyu sighs, dropping his hands to his side out of frustration. He turns around to go back to Yeonjun’s room with heavy steps. “This is so _unfair._ ”

“He’s so in love with you,” Soobin says unprovoked, when Beomgyu closes the door.

Yeonjun rubs the bridge of his nose. “He is _not_. Give it up already.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to prove you wrong,” Soobin playfully wags a finger in front of him. “My intuition has never been wrong and it’s not about to fail me now.”

“I hope Taehyun never replies back when you text him”

“Hey, now that’s just crossing the line!”

Soobin and Beomgyu (in much of his annoyance) eventually leave together a quarter to nine, leaving Yeonjun in the quiet of his house again. 

His mom arrives half an hour later when he’s just gotten out of the shower. He sees her put down grocery bags on the dining table, dark circles under her eyes digging deep. She must have gone straight to the market right after leaving the hospital.

“Hey mom,” Yeonjun greets, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Hi Junie. Did Beomgyu sleep over?” She asks when she notices the extra mug on the sink. She knows Soobin doesn’t drink coffee.

“Yeah,” Yeonjun answers, taking out the cans from the plastic bags. “It’s his birthday today. I’m picking him up again later at three. Changbin says he’s taking the afternoon shift later, so I’m free.”

“Oh right! It’s his 18th today,” she exclaims as she remembers. “I wanted to bake him a cake but I don’t think I have time to spare today. Can you just tell Beomgyu a happy birthday for me, dear?”

Yeonjun smiles. His mother has always been endeared by him. “Will do.”

His mom takes the cereal boxes and places them on the cupboards. “Time sure flies so fast, huh? He was so young when we first met him. His cheeks were so full, and now he’s graduating high school,” his mom muses, eyes incredibly fond. “Is he going to Seoul for college?”

There’s that sinking feeling in his gut again. He tries to ignore it. 

“Yeah. Next month.”

His mom pauses like she knows. She always does, always knows Yeonjun before he knows himself. She rests her hand on top of his, an apology tucked in between her calloused fingers.

“I’m sure he’ll come visit sometimes, honey. Daegu isn’t that far from Seoul,” she tries to reassure him. “Beomgyu would miss you too much if you’re out of his sight for too long.”

Yeonjun chuckles. He knows she’s just making him feel better. “You think so?”

“He looks at you like that all the time,” she tells him, and then pauses like she’s stuck in a memory for a moment. “Endearing boy.”

Yeonjun just gives her a small smile. He tries not to dwell on what she means by that.

  
  


➷

(Yeonjun doesn’t believe in a lot of things, but he believes in the magic behind trust. The kind of magic that makes you a little hopeful and a lot more braver, giving your feet wings to glide through the freefall that comes after you take that one long leap across. 

Yeonjun isn’t a believer, but where there’s blind faith, there is also trust.)

It’s 11:15 in the evening, March 12.

Yeonjun is thirteen turning fourteen in a few months with a curfew to sleep before midnight, and there are pebbles being thrown at his window at this time of the night.

“Yeonjun hyung!” he hears from below, but even when he doesn’t speak, Yeonjun already knows.

Beomgyu is a believer of a lot of things, but he doesn’t believe in the concept of time, neither does he believe that it waits for anyone.

“You look like a failed attempt of a robbery,” Yeonjun says, opening his window to see him down in his front yard. Beomgyu’s orange sweater is a stark contrast to the black evening sky. “What are you doing here? It’s 11pm.”

Beomgyu grins, a flicker of fire burning in the dark of the night, bright and alive. “Hyung, I’m turning 12.”

“It’s the 13th tomorrow?” 

Yeonjun knows. Of course he does. He has the date marked on his desk calendar, the 13th of March circled with a pink highlighter, but he would never tell him that.

“No, in less than an hour.”

“That’s still _tomorrow_ ,” Yeonjun crosses his arms and leans his body to the side of his window frame. “Again what are you doing here? It’s late.”

Beomgyu holds on to the straps of his backpack tighter. Yeonjun’s room is on the second floor so he looks smaller up here in this view, dark curls pooling over his head.

“I’m starting middle school this Spring. I want to try having a late movie night on a sleepover.”

Yeonjun raises an eyebrow, “That has no correlation whatsoever with turning 12, or being a middle schooler, or showing up in my front yard unannounced at 11pm.” 

“It’s number 1 on my birthday wishlist!”

Beomgyu’s wishlist stayed even after his 5th birthday. Dawdled to his 6th because Yeonjun was still his friend even when he made new ones in his new school. Lingered to his 7th because Beomgyu would never leave him alone even when he’s a grade lower than him. Then stretched to his 8th, to his 9th, and then it was tradition between the two of them.

Because Beomgyu keeps coming and coming and coming, sketchpad in hand and stars in his eyes, and Yeonjun could never deny him of anything no matter how hard he tries.

He still finds fun in teasing him though. “The wishlist is null, Beomgyu-ya. It’s been seven years.”

Beomgyu pouts, forehead creasing. Yeonjun holds back a laugh. He knows he’s getting frustrated now. It’s always so, so easy to tease him like this.

“That’s breaking the first wish on my 10th birthday wishlist, hyung. No nullifying of the wishlist!"

"Oh my god,” Yeonjun rests his elbows on the window sill, leaning forward. “You're never gonna leave, are you?"

"You're never gonna leave me out here in the cold for long either, hyung," Beomgyu teases back. It's how they talk best; it’s comfortable like this.

"I could just call the cops, you know."

"You adore me. You wouldn't."

"More like you annoy me. I would,” Yeonjun says, but his voice melts too much for it to come off as anything else other than completely endeared. 

Because Yeonjun could shout 'I hate you' all he wants but all he'll ever sound is completely fond. 

The smile playing on his lips is not unnoticeable. “Stay there. I'll come get you."

Beomgyu smiles wide and it flickers under the moonlight, gleaming and twinkling. "You’re my Yeonjun hyung after all."

Yeonjun could never deny him of anything when he’s like this. Can't stop adoring him when he's meant to be adored like this.

("Can I borrow your shirt?" Beomgyu asks, rolling on Yeonjun’s bed. It’s not twin-sized; it’s a bed for one but Beomgyu is small and Yeonjun is still waiting for that growth spurt to hit so they fit together just fine.

"You're never gonna give it back."

"I will. I promise. I'll even wash it," Beomgyu lifts a hand like he’s swearing an oath.

“You’ve never even tried doing laundry your whole life,” Yeonjun glares at him, but throws him a clean one regardless. "Just go take it."

“You’re the best!” Beomgyu sends him air kisses. Yeonjun just rolls his eyes.

The shirt is a perfect fit on him.

"Hey, can I boil ramyeon tonight? I'm kind of hungry."

"You're literally boiling water in front of me already and you're only asking now?" Yeonjun says when he finds Beomgyu in the kitchen after he comes out of the shower, hair still damp.

"I still have my manners, of course."

Yeonjun opens the fridge and takes out a cardboard box. "Do you want pizza? There are still leftovers. I could reheat some."

Beomgyu claps his hands together. "You're god-sent, you know that?"

“And you are a pain in the ass.” Yeonjun turns on the microwave.

Beomgyu’s forehead creases. “Hey, isn’t that a bad word? A— I can’t even say it. Should I even think of the word, hyung? Is it okay to think about it?”

Yeonjun stares at him like he’s an idiot, “Ass is literally just butt.”

“Oh,” Beomgyu whispers in wonder, opening the packets of seasoning. “Wow, middle schoolers are something else.”

"So, what do you want to watch?"

Yeonjun raises an eyebrow. "You're literally the one who suggested movie night. Shouldn't you be the one who has something you want to watch?"

Beomgyu brings the laptop closer to him. Yeonjun got it as a gift on his 12th birthday. "I was thinking of watching _The Notebook._ "

"Then why did you still ask me?"

"I wanted to counter everything you suggest with how _The Notebook_ would be a hundred times better," Beomgyu grins at him.

Yeonjun scoffs and throws a pillow at him. "You're unbearable, you know that?"

Beomgyu cups his cheeks with his hands, "Mom says it’s part of my charm. Doesn’t it make me charming, hyung?"

Yeonjun just rolls his eyes and takes the laptop from him. He types _The Notebook_ on the search bar. "Didn't people say _The Notebook_ made them cry? I heard from a classmate she cried while watching it."

Beomgyu scoots closer, "That’s okay. It’s cold tonight. I think it's the perfect night to cry."

"On your _birthday?"_

He shrugs, "Celebratory tears."

Yeonjun just shakes his head as he clicks on a website. "I don't get how your brain works."

Beomgyu winks, "I told you, hyung. It’s part of my charm.")

"That was a good movie."

The ending credits roll on the black screen. Yeonjun checks the time on his wall clock. It’s already two in the morning. He has never stayed up this late before and it’s a Tuesday of all days. He has _Geometry_ at eight tomorrow too.

“I’m sorry I ruined your shirt,” Beomgyu apologizes but he’s giggling. “I didn’t think I would cry this much.”

“You’re washing it anyway,” Yeonjun says, shutting down his laptop and putting it back on his table.

Beomgyu scoots a little to the edge of his bed so they would fit. Yeonjun lies down next to him. The only thing illuminating the room is the bright moon reflected on his window and the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck on his ceiling he hadn’t bothered taking down since he was six.

“The moon is so pretty, don’t you think so, hyung?” Beomgyu whispers into the quiet. He’s not looking at him, but at the plastic constellation over their heads.

“Since when did you care about the moon?” Yeonjun snorts. “You’re not even looking at it. The moon is over there.”

“I don’t need to look. I can see it in my head.” Beomgyu shifts to his side so he’s facing him, less than a handspan away from the tip of Yeonjun’s nose. “I think it’s very pretty.”

Yeonjun lets himself stare. This is a proximity, and the lack thereof, that’s familiar to him. From the sound of Beomgyu’s breathing to the heat of his skin against his own, it’s something Yeonjun knows all too well, but he has never let himself stare long enough like this until now.

The bridge of Beomgyu’s nose. The length of his eyelashes.

_Has Beomgyu always been this pretty?_

And then Beomgyu smiles, eyes like ocean waters and Yeonjun could just dive in them unafraid because he knows this. This is familiar. He has seen these eyes, looked into them once, twice, a hundred times. They’re not uncharted territories; Yeonjun has sailed here before, has the map tattooed in the back of his mind.

But it’s always when the sun is out, when it’s blinding and burning against his skin. No one’s ever been afraid in the presence of daylight.

This is the first time Yeonjun is sailing in the dark. This is a feeling that’s unfamiliar.

The warmth seeping through Beomgyu’s irises. The pink in his lips.

Yeonjun gulps, once, twice.

He knows Beomgyu is pretty, but _has he always been this pretty?_

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Beomgyu giggles, and it’s only then that Yeonjun realizes he’s been staring long enough. He immediately shifts to his side, ignoring the way his ears burn.

“I wasn’t staring,” Yeonjun says defensively. “I was zoning out.”

“Hm, _sure_.”

Yeonjun shifts again to face him. Beomgyu’s still looking at him, dark curls falling like a curtain.

“Changed your mind?”

“Shut up,” Yeonjun glares at him, jabbing him lightly. "Are you finally gonna tell me why you really came tonight?”

Beomgyu smiles. It’s not smug, or teasing, or sarcastic— it’s just a smile. "To see you of course. I missed my Yeonjun hyung."

"You're terrible at lying, you know that?"

He laughs, loud and full. Laughing is always as easy as breathing for him. "You really think so?”

“I’ve known you since you were five,” Yeonjun says it like it’s obvious. “I already know when you’re lying before you even say the lie.”

“That’s because you’re _so_ obsessed with me,” Beomgyu teases, moving closer to cut the handspan distance in half.

The proximity is familiar, but Yeonjun feels his boat tip over a little, heart caught on his throat.

He pushes his face away. “Says the boy who kept showing up in my front yard every single day since I attended his fifth birthday party.”

“I guess we’re both just terribly obsessed with each other then,” Beomgyu giggles, before it dies little by little until they’re back in the quiet of his room again. It’s quiet, and quiet again, and quiet for long enough that they both know something’s bothering him.

Yeonjun takes a glance. He doesn’t need to say a word, just slides a hand over Beomgyu’s, always having been smaller than his own. 

Beomgyu locks their fingers together.

“I’m scared of middle school,” he whispers, looking embarrassed. “It’s stupid, but— ah, I don’t know. It’s been bothering me the past few days. Every time I think about it, I feel _weird_ when I know it’s just _middle school._ Like, I know it’s different from sixth grade, but it’s not like high school or college. Who on earth gets scared of going to _seventh grade_?”

“You,” Yeonjun simply says, thumb unconsciously playing with Beomgyu’s own. “You would get scared of going to seventh grade. It sounds like a Beomgyu thing to do.”

Beomgyu scoffs, “So you’re saying I’m weird?”

“No, I’m saying it makes sense because you’re Beomgyu, and there are things Beomgyu would be scared of, just like how there are things I would be scared of, and the same goes for everybody else. It’s normal,” Yeonjun explains, keeping his eyes locked on the stars on his ceiling. “There’s nothing wrong with being scared sometimes.”

“I was hoping you would say something like, _middle_ _school sucks, there’s nothing to be afraid of_ , or _7th graders are just a bunch of losers_ ,” Beomgyu chuckles. He nudges Yeonjun’s thumb gently with his own, a small smile playing on his lips. “But this is nice too. Thank you, hyung.”

“I mean, 7th graders _are_ a bunch of losers,” Yeonjun moves his shoulders in an attempt of a shrug. “But you’re not, so you’ll be fine.”

“Hyung thinks I’m cool?” Yeonjun can see the grin even if he doesn’t turn around to look.

“Hm, I think you’re good.”

“Just good?”

He turns to his side to face him. “Are you still scared of seventh grade?”

“A bit,” Beomgyu admits. “I’m still nervous about it.”

Yeonjun pushes his shoulder gently, “Turn around.”

“Huh? Why—”

“Just turn around.”

So Beomgyu does, and he jumps a little when he feels Yeonjun’s arms wrap around him from behind, Yeonjun’s head resting on the width of his small back.

“Hyung?”

He’s asking what he’s doing, but honestly, Yeonjun doesn’t know himself either, but it feels like he should. It just feels right that he should.

“Just think how it’s good we’re going to the same school again, and we can see each other during lunch now. You can watch me play too,” Yeonjun says, closing his eyes. Beomgyu smells like laundry detergent. “Middle school doesn’t sound too bad now, huh?”

“Wow,” Beomgyu lets out a soft chuckle. “We went to different schools only for a year but did hyung miss me that much?”

“Like you didn’t miss me at all too.”

Another laugh. “Hm, yeah. Yeah, middle school sounds good now.”

“Just good?”

Beomgyu takes his arm off so he can turn around to face him again. He cups Yeonjun’s face with both of his hands, face inching closer, just a thumb-length away that makes his breath hitch for a split second.

 _Beomgyu is pretty,_ is what Yeonjun thinks. He thinks of this again, and again, and again because it’s the only thing he can think of at this moment. Beomgyu’s pretty eyes. Beomgyu’s pretty lips. Beomgyu is pretty.

The room is quiet, but this is the loudest his head has ever been.

“Good,” Beomgyu smiles, small but it fits. “Because Yeonjun hyung is good too.”

_Beomgyu is good. Beomgyu has always been good. Yeonjun wants to be a good hyung too._

The first tidal wave hits then. He feels his heart hammer against his chest.

Yeonjun has never sailed in the night so he doesn’t know where to go when his boat tips over like this. He’s never been this afraid of the dark until now.

He pinches Beomgyu’s cheek to hide his own flushed face. "Happy birthday, Kkyu."

Beomgyu swats his hand away, and looks at him in confusion. “Who’s Kkyu?”

“You. Who else?” Yeonjun shifts, so he’s facing front again, closing his eyes. “Beomgyu. Beomkkyu. Kkyu.”

“Kkyu,” Beomgyu repeats. “Kkyu is cute. I like Kkyu. Keep calling me that.”

“I’ll call you that when I feel like it.”

“You’re so stingy,” Beomgyu mutters under his breath, but Yeonjun feels his hand rest above his again, fingers locking together. He ignores the way his heart drops to his feet.

“But thank you,” he mumbles softly, preparing to drift off to sleep. “You always know what to say. You’re my Yeonjun hyung after all.”

Beomgyu sleeps that night feeling better, but Yeonjun is left wide awake until the morning after with a crush he’s afraid to admit even to himself.

_There’s nothing wrong with being scared sometimes._

Beomgyu doesn’t let go of his hand until the sun rises.

➷

_3pm_ , his phone blinks.

He’s been turning it on and off, and on again for how many times now but it still keeps showing 3pm for what feels like seven minutes already. Yeonjun clears his throat and shifts his weight down to his other foot, right one tapping restlessly against the pavement.

It is, actually, _very_ hard to pretend like he doesn’t feel every single passerby and bystander’s eyes burning holes in his head, but he keeps his bravado up, casually checking his wristwatch again for the time.

It’s not like it’s been ages since he graduated from highschool; it’s only been less than two years, so it’s no surprise if some people here recognize him or think he’s familiar. It’s a small town too, after all. Everybody knows everybody.

He checks his reflection on his bike’s side mirror.

“You are _such_ a show-off,” he hears someone say from behind and before he can even turn to see, he feels the backpack strap hit his face at the same time he feels the weight of the bag itself hit him in the back.

“ _Ow_ —what the hell was that for?”

“The _motorbike_?” Beomgyu points at Yeonjun’s black Kawasaki parked outside their highschool’s gates, and then back at Yeonjun. “And the _leather jacket? Really?_ ”

“I dress like this, and I drive this around all the time. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Yeonjun says, rubbing the spot in his back where he had been hit.

“We’re going to a _pet shelter_ , not some shooting for a motorcross live action of Initial D.”

“I dress to impress all the time. Don’t act like you’re only finding out about this now,” Yeonjun pushes his forehead back gently with two fingers.

Beomgyu slings his backpack back on his shoulder. He’s wearing his school uniform wrong again, the first two buttons undone and his tie nowhere to be seen.

And he’s not alone, Yeonjun notices that a little later than he should.

“Ah, so you really were meeting someone today,” Hyunjin says with a light chuckle. His blond hair is now longer than Yeonjun remembers, tied neatly in a low ponytail. “I thought you were just trying to avoid me again.”

“Now why would I do that?” Beomgyu slips his arm easily around Yeonjun’s. The latter looks at him in question. “It’s my birthday. Of course I have plans.”

“Hm, then can I take you out tomorrow instead?” Hyunjin shoots his shot.

“Nope,” Beomgyu clings to Yeonjun’s arm tighter. “Still have plans. This guy’s reserved the whole week with me.”

“Now, what are you talk— _ow!_ ”

If Hyunjin noticed the elbow jab to Yeonjun’s stomach, he pretends he doesn’t. He smiles kindly at Beomgyu, adjusting the strap of his own bag on his shoulder. “Oh, I see. Well then, I guess I should take my leave now. Just… text me when you’re available then?”

“Will do,” Beomgyu answers chirpily, waving. “Bye. See you later.”

“Yeah. Happy birthday again,” Hyunjin waves back with a smile, giving Yeonjun a nod as well before he walks away. It’s only when he’s out of earshot that Yeonjun shoves Beomgyu off the pavement, the latter shrieking.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“It's _me_ whoshould be asking you that,” Yeonjun scoffs. He tosses the extra helmet at Beomgyu who’s quick enough to catch it. “What was _that_ about?”

“What, Hyunjin? He likes me. He wants to date me and be my boyfriend obviously,” Beomgyu just shrugs. How he’s able to say that with such a straight face Yeonjun has entirely no idea, but he’s Beomgyu so this isn’t all that surprising, to say the least.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Well. You know,” Yeonjun raises his shoulders, “Do you like him too?”

Beomgyu cranes his neck and stares. “Hyung, do you think I would be here with you right now if I like him? He literally asked me out less than ten minutes ago and I rejected him in front of you. Do you _really_ think I’m interested in him?”

“Well, I kind of just assumed you would choose me over anybody, even if the other person is a romantic interest,” Yeonjun puts his helmet on. “I was just making sure.”

“You _really_ think so?” Beomgyu scoffs, but he’s smiling.

“I can’t help it. You’re so obsessed with me. Even if you got married, you would probably still look for me first,” Yeonjun shrugs, turning his head at him. “Won’t you?”

Beomgyu adjusts the strap on his helmet as he puts it on, “You’re so full of yourself sometimes, you know that?”

“You like me too much. It gave me a big head, so endure the consequences,” he says, climbing up on his motorbike. He revs up the engine.

“But what if I do end up liking someone?” Beomgyu asks in between the sound of the loud engine running. “What if I end up liking someone and choose them over you, what will you do then?”

“You don’t like anyone right now?” the question slips before Yeonjun even realizes he’s asked it. “I mean..”

Beomgyu just smiles. “Don’t answer a question with a question, hyung.” 

“Well,” Yeonjun pulls down the shield on his helmet, his voice muffled. “Then you choose them. It’s not like I can do anything about that. We’ll still be friends.”

“You won’t be upset?”

Yeonjun pauses for a moment, the second stretching longer than intended. “Only if you’re unhappy.”

Beomgyu smiles wide, seemingly satisfied with the answer. He hops on the back of the motorbike.

“Hyung, it doesn’t matter who’s interested in me, or who I end up liking.” He wraps his arms around Yeonjun’s waist, peeking to catch his attention. “You’re right. I’ll always choose you over them any day."

Yeonjun takes in a breath, and exhales. 

He can hear the waves. His long abandoned boat. The sea at night.

"You’re my Yeonjun hyung after all.”

Yeonjun drives off.

  
  


➷

It's love at first sight. 

Thirty seconds after stepping into the pet shelter, Yeonjun loses Beomgyu to the giant puppy with the golden mane and black beady eyes displayed right by the entrance. It’s a golden retriever, just a few months old by the looks of it, and seems to adore Beomgyu right back, wagging his tail in delight as he pets him on the head.

Yeonjun loves dogs, but Beomgyu has always loved them more.

“Hyung, hyung,” Beomgyu giggles, catching his breath as the puppy tries to lick his face again and again. “I want this one! Can we get this one please?”

“The pup’s literally all over you, it would be a bigger surprise if you didn’t get this one,” Yeonjun just laughs, arms crossed over his chest. He watches closely as Beomgyu tries to make the dog sit and put his paw on his palm, to which it immediately obeys.

Yeonjun just watches fondly.

If there’s one unequivocal truth in the universe, it would be this: there is nothing in this world that can ever resist Choi Beomgyu’s undeniable charm. Even dogs.

The windchimes from the backdoor jingle, and they see a middle-aged man with a beard and the pet shelter’s name printed on the blue apron he’s wearing. Must be the manager.

“Hello, how can I help you?” he greets kindly.

Beomgyu immediately turns to Yeonjun, hands still running through the puppy’s golden fur.

“Ah, yeah, hi,” Yeonjun walks towards him. “My friend and I were planning to adopt a dog? Specifically this little guy over here?” he motions towards the golden retriever in Beomgyu’s arms.

“Oh, we just got that one not too long ago. Three months old,” the manager exclaims happily. “He seems to like your friend a lot.”

“I like him a lot too,” Beomgyu giggles.

“Is this your first time adopting, sir?” He turns to Yeonjun again.

“Yeah, we’ve never had a dog before.”

“Alright, well,” he walks towards the counter for a moment and comes back with a pen and a piece of paper. “I’ll just need you to fill up this application form and go through an interview with the shelter counselors right after. They’re on break right now though, so I’ll just interview you myself.”

Yeonjun blinks. “There’s an interview?”

“Precautions. We’ll need to know our dogs will be in safe hands, and also give out some advice and tips too especially for first-time owners,” the manager smiles.

Yeonjun blanks out. He has _zero_ knowledge on Dog Management 101 whatsoever.

“I’ll take it, hyung,” Beomgyu tells him, putting down the puppy. He takes the pen and paper from him. “I’m the one adopting anyway.”

“You sure?”

Beomgyu winks at him, “I told you. I already watched a crash course on Youtube before this. I got this, trust me.” He turns to the manager waiting for them. “Lead the way, sir.”

Yeonjun waits by the bench outside the pet shelter, Beomgyu’s golden retriever puppy already back in his cage, fast asleep. 

The sky is almost orange now, streaks of golden yellow mixing in with the white clouds. The streets in this area are quiet, save for the little kids playing hopscotch in the small park right across from where he is seated.

Yeonjun has been waiting for twenty minutes already but Beomgyu’s still not done with his interview. He takes a peek again at the glass panel he’s resting his back against. Beomgyu is still talking with the manager, hands moving along animatedly as he speaks. _Yup_ , still not done.

He kicks a stray pebble with his shoe, watches as it rolls off the pavement and stops when it hits another pair of white sneakers.

“Yeonjun hyung?”

Yeonjun looks up and sees a familiar pair of warm brown eyes and unruly dark curls. “Kai?”

“Woah, it really is you, hyung,” Kai exclaims in a happy surprise. “Wow, it’s been a while. How are you? What are you doing here?”

Yeonjun knew Huening Kai from highschool, a freshman when he was a senior. They haven’t talked much after he graduated, but Kai was in the same dance org as him then and would trail behind him like a little puppy, always ready to say _‘Yeonjun hyung is so cool’_ or _‘I want to dance as good as hyung too_.’ every chance he gets.

He’s not sure if Kai still thinks he’s cool now though.

“Ah, I’ve been good. My friend,” Yeonjun points at the front door of the shelter with his thumb. “He wanted to adopt a puppy so he’s talking with the manager right now. I’m just waiting for him here.”

“Oh, he must be talking to Hyunmo-hyung then.” Yeonjun only notices then that he’s wearing the same blue apron as the shelter employee too.

“You work here?”

“Yeah, part-time,” Kai grins at him, pulling on his apron. “I’m just beginning my shift now actually. I just got here from school.”

“Oh,” Yeonjun doesn’t really know how to keep the conversation going now. “Oh. I see.”

Kai, however, seems like he still has a lot of things he wants to say, stepping closer to where Yeonjun is seated by the bench. He’s a lot taller now, he notices. “So, how’s life after highschool, hyung?”

He means well, Yeonjun knows that, but he can’t count how many times he’s been asked this question. Over dinner parties, with relatives, or with friends. When he meets an old acquaintance coincidentally at the mall, or when someone he knows comes into the store.

It’s a question that makes his skin crawl, heart caught on his throat. He’s not particularly fond of it.

“Not much,” he answers with a small smile. “I’m just— you know, _here._ I’ve been managing my parents’ record store while dad’s in the hospital. Someone has to watch over it.”

“Ah, right,” Kai nods, flustered, realizing his words. “Right. I’m sorry. I heard about— about that.” 

Yeonjun thinks about Seoul, his scholarship to Sungkyunkwan University. He thinks about how many people think he is wasted potential. If Kai thinks the same as them too.

_What happens to stars when they burn out?_

“I hope he gets better soon,” Kai says, patting him lightly on the shoulder before he takes a step back. “Well, it was nice catching up with you, hyung. Visit school sometimes, why don’t you? I’m sure your dance org juniors miss you too.”

Yeonjun chuckles, “Do they really? I’ll try to visit when I’m free then.”

“We watch your recorded performances sometimes. You’re like a living legend for us, hyung. The freshies wanna meet you too,” Kai continues to praise. “Anyway, yeah, I need to head over to the back now. I have dogs to feed. Say hello to Beomgyu hyung for me too?”

Yeonjun stares, about to ask how he knew he was with Beomgyu today, but Kai beats him to it. 

“I just kind of knew you still hang out,” Kai answers without him asking. “I don’t think there was ever a day I didn’t see you two together.”

“We’re not _that_ attached to the hip.”

Kai just laughs, “It kinda seems that way for everyone else.”

He thinks about his words even after he leaves him by the bench.

Yeonjun thinks about it. Has there ever been a day when he didn’t talk to Beomgyu? Ever since his fifth birthday party, was there ever a day when he didn’t catch a signal from him that he’s here, that he’s near? 

It was always Beomgyu in his front yard, throwing pebbles in his window. Beomgyu on his bike with the training wheels, in front of his middle school, waiting so they could go home together. Beomgyu in his bedroom, just a distance of a handspan. Beomgyu from three houses away.

And then he’s gonna be three hundred kilometers away next month.

There’s an unfamiliar kind of empty settling in his chest.

“Wow, you’re in deep thought.”

Yeonjun breaks out of his reverie and sees Beomgyu step out of the front door of the shelter, a few papers in hand. “Hey.”

“Hey, how did it go?” Yeonjun asks, moves over so there’s space for him to sit on the bench. Beomgyu takes the spot next to him.

“Aced the interview, of course,” Beomgyu grins with a thumbs up. “I told you. All I need is Youtube.”

“You’re unbelievable. They probably just passed you ‘cause they saw how desperate you looked holding on to that puppy,” Yeonjun just shakes his head. “Anyway, when did they say you can bring the dog home?”

“I can get him by Sunday. They have a vet appointment on Saturday, so they’ll get him checked first before giving him to me,” Beomgyu says as he checks his phone. “I should give him a name before then.”

“Hm,” Yeonjun ponders, kicking another pebble off the pavement. “Charlie? Bailey?”

Beomgyu snorts, “Why are they such white names?”

“Well, do you have better ideas?”

“I want it to be unique-sounding,” he says. “One in a million.”

Yeonjun just rolls his eyes. “Of course you would. Poor dog.”

“Aha!” Beomgyu exclaims after what seems like a minute of pondering. “ _Jjukkyumi_!”

“ _Octopus?”_

“ _Jjukkyumi_ , not _jjukkumi_ , hyung,” Beomgyu makes a face. “It’s cute. It’s perfect.”

“What does _Jjukkyumi_ even mean?”

“Jju, from Yeonjunie,” he explains, pointing a finger at Yeonjun, and then at him. “Kkyu from Beomkkyu.”

“And the ‘mi’?”

Beomgyu just shrugs, “The ‘mi’ is just there.”

“I still can’t believe you’re calling your dog an octopus.”

“I told you it’s not octopus. It’s _us_ ,” Beomgyu repeats in frustration. “It’s both of us. I’m Jjukkyumi’s parent number one. You are parent number two.”

Yeonjun’s eyebrows furrow. “Why am I just two?”

“I answered the interview. At least I didn’t make you an honorary parent only.”

Yeonjun doesn’t try to fight him. “I’m just calling the dog Yumi.”

“Yumi is cute too,” Beomgyu nods his head. “But his government name is still Choi Jjukkyumi.”

“I would hate you and impatiently wait for my 18th birthday to be able to legally change my name if I was Yumi and you were my parent.”

“Well lucky for us both, I’m just Beomgyu to you,” he laughs. Yeonjun wonders for a moment how it’s so easy for him to just let it out like that.

“You still haven’t said why you wanna adopt a dog, by the way,” he brings up suddenly when he remembers. “Won’t you be busy enough just taking care of yourself over there?”

By there he means Seoul, the big city with skyscrapers that stretch across the horizon and busy streets that never sleep. The city without his mother to cook him breakfast and do his laundry, or his dad who updates him about the local news. The city with no Soobin to nag him about school and skipping classes. The city with no Yeonjun.

Beomgyu gets up from the bench, daylight on his hair. 

He smiles, “I just thought it might get a little lonely.”

The golden yellow melts into a burning orange in the sky by the time they walk back to Yeonjun’s parked motorcycle. He hands him the spare helmet.

“Ah, right, before I forget. Kai said hi, by the way,” Yeonjun tells him, adjusting the helmet on his head.

“Kai?” Beomgyu blinks, confused. “Kai, as in Huening Kai? Your dance org junior?”

“Yeah, him,” Yeonjun nods. “He works part-time at the pet shelter. I saw him earlier before you came back from the interview.”

“Hm, that’s nice. I haven’t talked to him in a while,” Beomgyu muses, putting on his own helmet too. “Did you know he had a crush on you before?”

Yeonjun almost stumbles when he deploys the kickstand. “Huh? Who? _Kai_?”

“Yeah. His friends are in choir with me and he used to visit the clubroom a lot,” Beomgyu just says casually. “They would always try to push him to me during practice. At first, I thought he had a crush on _me_ with the way they were acting, but then one day, one of his friends slipped up and said ‘ _just ask Beomgyu if he can give you Yeonjun sunbae’s number_ ’, and then it just— _clicked_.” 

Beomgyu raises his shoulders in a shrug, “But he never asked me though.”

Yeonjun stares at him, dumbfounded. “And you never thought of _giving_ it to him?”

“Why?” he turns to him curiously. “Did you want me to? Do you like him?”

“I mean, not in _that_ way but,” Yeonjun stumbles over his words. “I don’t know? It would’ve been nice to know someone liked me in that way at least? Maybe I would have actually graduated high school with a boyfriend.”

“Are you kidding me?” Now it’s Beomgyu’s turn to look at him incredulously. “Hyung, do you really not know?”

“Know what?”

“ _Hyung_ ,” Beomgyu yells, frustrated. _“Everybody_ wanted to date you in highschool. Actually everybody _still_ does. Do you know how many texts I get asking if I can bridge them with you?”

Yeonjun stares, eyes blinking. “You’ve never bridged any of them to me though? How was I supposed to know?”

Beomgyu scoffs. “Do you not see any signs?”

“What signs am I even supposed to see?”

“Nevermind," he waves him off. "You’re so dense, my god.”

“I’m not _that_ stupid.” Yeonjun defends himself. “Nobody’s just ever been upfront with me so how the hell am I supposed to know anyone is even remotely interested in me? They all move like _Soobin_.”

It’s true. It’s not like Yeonjun is full-on oblivious. He notices sometimes.

When a stare lingers for a second too long. When there’s a pause in between a conversation that stretches past the minute. The jolt when hands would accidentally brush against each other, or when there’s a pink blush painted on one’s cheeks— Yeonjun knows all these. He’s noticed all of these, but nobody ever comes forward so they all just remain as what-if’s and could’ve-been’s in his head.

Sometimes, he wishes someone would just say something. At least once. But more often than not, he feels thankful no one hasn’t yet.

His boat already tips over with just his own weight. He wouldn’t know what to do if he had to carry more from someone else's. 

Yeonjun just shakes his head, “If no one’s confessing then how am I supposed to know, right?”

“That’s not what I— nevermind,” Beomgyu sighs, looking defeated. “You’re so frustrating sometimes. That’s why you’ve never had a boyfriend.”

“Hey, now I wouldn’t go that far,” Yeonjun glares at him, before hopping on his bike. He turns to him again. “But why did you never tell me about them though? The texts you get.”

“If they want you, then they should tell you themselves,” Beomgyu simply answers, eyes set on him. “They shouldn’t have to rely on me. You deserve full effort, hyung.”

“Really?” Yeonjun laughs, revving up the engine. “For a minute there, I almost thought it was because you didn’t wanna lose me to anyone.”

“I’m never losing you to anyone,” Beomgyu says with conviction, and Yeonjun waits for the teasing in his tone but it doesn’t come.

He pulls down the shield of his helmet to hide the way his cheeks burn the same way as the sunset.

  
  


➷

Beomgyu has been a devout follower of tradition his entire life. 

“I get attached easily,” he explains one time, when Yeonjun lets his curiosity take over and braves himself to ask. “With people, things, _moments_. It’s so easy for me to get attached so I like to repeat them for as long as I can.”

Yeonjun remembers how he had looked then when he told him. It’s what contentment would look like if it had a face.

“Trying new things is fun too but,” Beomgyu takes in a deep breath, closes his eyes for a moment before turning to him with a smile. “Isn’t it much more comfortable if it’s familiar?”

He looks back on that memory again when he knocks on his front door.

Beomgyu’s house is still bigger, but Yeonjun has already stopped thinking of it as a palace like the pictures of Buckingham or Kensington printed in his mother’s glossy magazines long ago. It’s what comes with the familiarity of having knocked on this very same white wooden door for about thirteen years now. You get used to things.

It’s seven pm when Beomgyu’s mother opens it for him, the beauty of her youth still evident in her features. She smiles the same way as Beomgyu does.

“Yeonjun-ah,” she greets, a little awed. “Have I told you how much your pink hair suits you?”

Yeonjun smiles sheepishly. “Everyday since I dyed it last month.”

“Well, you do deserve to know every single day,” she laughs lightly. She motions for him to come inside. “Come on. I made my world famous _kimchi jjigae_ tonight. You better hurry before my husband gulps it all down by himself.”

One of Beomgyu’s many traditions is his birthday dinner with his family. He has stopped having parties on his actual birthday ever since he turned eleven, settling with just a simple meal on the 13th with his mom’s lovely cooking.

Yeonjun wasn’t originally part of the tradition.

The little change happened when Beomgyu turned fifteen, and Yeonjun was left alone at home when his dad had to be rushed to the hospital that night. He remembers crying in his room, head on his knees and the meal his mom left for him turning cold on the dining table.

Beomgyu knocked on his front door that night, dressed in a fancy blue shirt, telling him his mom makes the best _kimchi jjigae_ in the world. And that was that. Yeonjun found himself sitting in front of the round table in Beomgyu’s dining room March 13 of every year since then.

“Beomgyu is still getting ready,” his mom tells him as she sets down plates on the table. “He fell asleep as soon as he got home and just woke up ten minutes ago. Did you two stay up late again last night?” she turns to him in question.

Yeonjun just clears his throat. 

“Jun, I heard you two went to the pet shelter today,” Beomgyu’s dad asks from across the table. He’s got a neat mustard yellow shirt on and eyes that crinkle the same way as Beomgyu does when he’s happy. “How did it go?”

“Hasn’t even been a minute since we went in and Kkyu was already on the floor when I blinked.”

His dad laughs, the kind of boisterous laugh that booms against the walls. “He has always wanted a dog ever since, but his mom and I thought he wasn’t really ready for that responsibility just yet. But maybe college will teach him a thing or two.”

“I don't think the dorms allow pets though,” his mom chimes in from the kitchen.

Yeonjun takes a gulp of water from his glass.

Beomgyu steps down the stairs a few minutes later, hair damp and wearing the blue and white checkered cardigan Yeonjun remembers getting him on his birthday last year.

“Well, you look really dashing tonight,” Beomgyu teases when he sees him in the dining room, eyeing him up and down. “You look like you’re going to a marriage appointment.”

“I’m literally just wearing a dress coat. It’s cold outside,” Yeonjun answers flatly.

“Doesn’t he look like he’s going to a marriage appointment, dad?” Beomgyu asks for backup, settling on the seat next to Yeonjun.

“Why yes, now that you mention it, he does,” his father agrees. Of course he would agree. They always agree on every single thing. “Who’s the lucky lady, Junie?”

Yeonjun chokes on air, coughing. Beomgyu can’t stop laughing.

“He doesn’t swing that way, dad.”

“Oh my bad,” his dad laughs. “Guess Beomgyu still has a fighting chance then.”

“What are you even saying now?” Beomgyu whines. Yeonjun can see the blush on his cheeks but he’s midway into laughter. “Oh my god, dad, please stop embarrassing me.”

“I just think you look cute together. That’s all,” he shrugs. “You never know.”

Yeonjun just drinks from his glass again.

The rest of the dinner goes by smoothly. Beomgyu talks about the golden retriever from the shelter this afternoon. His mom shares a tidbit from work, while his dad tells interesting stories he remembers from childhood. Yeonjun talks in between whenever he’s asked.

They head to Beomgyu’s room upstairs right after they finish cleaning up. This is another one of Beomgyu’s many, many traditions.

“So,” Yeonjun asks, already settling down on an orange bean bag next to Beomgyu’s bed. “What is the itinerary for tonight?”

Beomgyu’s room is still the same from thirteen years ago, but also very different now. His walls are still painted blue like ocean waves, and the floor is still carpeted in the same shade of brown, but there are no more Hot Wheels cars littering around, no more crayon drawings pinned near his study table. There are posters of several bands taped on his wall now, shelves filled with vinyl records and CDs.

Beomgyu picks up his guitar, a gift he got from his dad on his 12th birthday, and climbs on his bed. He starts to tune it, “Actually, I just want to sleep tonight.”

“Oh, thank god,” Yeonjun says, sinking his body on the bean bag. “Do you know how many times I snoozed at work today? Changbin had to splash water at my face in front of a customer.”

“Not my fault you wouldn’t just sleep through watching _The Notebook_ for the 20th time,” Beomgyu laughs. He strums his guitar once, and then twice. “Anyway, it’s still 9pm. Just sleep for now. We’re waking up at 3am.”

“I _knew_ there was a catch,” Yeonjun groans, throwing the stray plushie on the floor at Beomgyu who’s quick enough to dodge it. It just hits and falls from the headboard sadly. “What are you even planning to do at 3am?”

“It’s in my wishlist,” Beomgyu simply says, like that’s enough of a reason. “Number two. Walk the streets past curfew. I’m eighteen so I can go out past midnight now.”

“And then what? Wait for us to get mugged?”

Beomgyu squints his eyes at him. “Do you think I don’t know you go out with Changbin and his friends late at night sometimes? I can literally see you guys walking down the streets from my window. I saw you try to fight a cat one time”

“Okay, I will not ask why you’re even awake at those times for you to witness me drunk walking my way back home,” Yeonjun says, sitting up properly. “But that’s _different_ , okay. We went out drinking. There was an agenda. What do you even plan to do in the streets at 3am?”

“I don’t know,” Beomgyu shrugs. “Get some fresh air? Buy something from an open 24/7 convenience store maybe?”

“That’s it?”

“I want to try it,” Beomgyu says firmly. “Hyung, it’s one of the many things I want to accomplish before I graduate at least.”

“You have such small dreams,” Yeonjun absentmindedly comments.

“But they’re achievable right?”

Yeonjun just sighs. There is no winning this argument. There is no argument in the first place when Beomgyu has already won the moment he said he wanted it.

Yeonjun can never deny him of anything.

“Scoot over,” he says, climbing up Beomgyu’s bed. His is bigger than Yeonjun’s, so they both fit just fine, with Beomgyu sitting on the edge, still tuning his guitar.

“I feel like I won’t be able to play the guitar much anymore when I start college,” Beomgyu says, strumming the strings again, once, twice. “That’s honestly kind of upsetting. Do you think I should get a part-time job at a pub or something? You know the ones where there are singers performing at a little podium in the corner? So then I’ll have an excuse to play regularly.”

“That would require a lot of time management,” Yeonjun answers from where he’s watching him, lying his head down on a pillow. “Which you, unfortunately, don’t have.”

“You’re so mean,” Beomgyu pouts. “I could at least try.”

Yeonjun closes his eyes, snuggling his face on the pillow. “Whatever makes you happy, Beomgyu-ya.”

Beomgyu strums again, this time the sound coming out much cleaner now. “I’ve been listening to a lot of Taylor Swift lately.”

Yeonjun snorts, opening his eyes. “What brought this on all of a sudden?”

“I’ve been practicing a song of hers on the guitar,” he strums again, and again. “Since like, last week? Do you wanna hear it? It’s very pretty. I like it a lot.”

“Always happy to be in the front row of a Choi Beomgyu performance,” Yeonjun says it teasingly, but he means every word.

“That’s why I always love playing in front of you,” Beomgyu smiles, soft and kind. “Close your eyes. I’ll lull you to sleep.” 

Beomgyu strums the first note, sings the first line and Yeonjun closes his eyes. The night is cold but Beomgyu’s sheets feel warm and comfortable.

Yeonjun drifts off to sleep feeling like he’s in the middle of an ocean on a standstill.

_I hope I never lose you, hope it never ends._

  
  


➷

  
  


“Soobin, do you have a crush on anybody right now?”

It’s lunch, and he’s at the bleachers trying to eat his sandwich but he doesn’t really have the appetite for it. Yeonjun is in eighth grade and thinks the biggest problem in the universe is possibly falling in love with your bestfriend.

Soobin scrunches his face in disgust, closing the lid of his water bottle. “I hope you’re not asking me this because you’re in love with me.”

“Gross,” Yeonjun immediately reacts, shoving him. He puts his sandwich back on the paper bag that came with it. “I’m asking because I’m curious. We’re friends so I think I deserve to know if you currently like anybody right now, don’t I? Maybe I can help.”

“Why? Do _you_ like anybody right now?” Soobin says, squinting his eyes at him. “I know you. You don’t just ask random questions out of thin air. Come on, spill it.”

Yeonjun feels his face burn from his ears all the way to his fingertips. _Is it that obvious?_

“I—I asked the question first so you answer first,” he says, stumbling over his words. “An answer for an answer.”

Soobin scoffs, “Alright, fine. Yeah, I have a crush.”

Yeonjun’s eyes widen. “ _Really_? Who?”

Soobin’s ears are red, and he’s avoiding eye contact. Yeonjun has seen him flustered countless times, but never like this. “Ji Changmin sunbae,” he whispers.

“ _Hyung?_ From my dance org?” Yeonjun gasps, almost spilling the water bottle he had left open when he jumps a little on his seat. “You like a _ninth_ grader?”

“It’s just two years!” Soobin defends, cheeks tomato red. “He’s _so_ cool. You don’t understand.”

He’s right. Yeonjun doesn’t really understand, but maybe that’s because these are Soobin’s feelings, and not his. Only Soobin would understand their own weight, just like how he’s probably the only person who can answer the questions in his head right now too, but Yeonjun still takes a shot by asking.

“How did you know you like him?”

Soobin is caught off-guard for a second. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” Yeonjun raises his shoulders up, “how did you figure out that you like him? That what you feel is more than just, a friend or an acquaintance? What was the signal?”

“I don’t think there was any signal,” Soobin answers, looking over the open field in front of them. “Or maybe there was and I just didn’t notice it, but… I don’t know. I just...felt it? Like I just woke up one day, and felt more than I think I should. Does that make sense?”

Yeonjun wants to ask about the boat in his head, and the waves tipping it over, and his crippling fear of the dark, but he thinks this answer is enough. It does make sense.

He just nods his head in response.

Soobin turns to him with a glare, “Ya, I answered already. Now it’s your turn. Who is it?”

Yeonjun visibly tenses, “Uh, it’s...it’s, um.”

“You know, keep acting like that and I will really think it’s me you’re in love with.”

“Oh my god, it’s not you,” Yeonjun groans in frustration. “It’s—”

As if on cue, he hears the strum of a guitar and a couple of girls squealing from the seats below.

“Since _when_ does he play the guitar?” Soobin asks beside him in genuine surprise.

Beomgyu is sitting in the middle, a few people crowding over him. Seventh graders, Yeonjun notices.

He’s playing the guitar, the one he got last week on his birthday. His dad had given it to him as a gift, after asking for it for months now. He’s strumming to a familiar melody.

 _Falling Slowly_ by Glenn Hansard and Marketa Irglova, he recognizes when he hears him sing the first verse. Yeonjun’s dad plays it in the store a lot, one of his all-time favorites. Beomgyu has mentioned in passing he loves hearing it.

Beomgyu’s fingers move like he has years of experience, dancing on the guitar strings with so much grace that Yeonjun can’t stop himself from looking.

And then Yeonjun’s eyes move from his fingers to his mouth moving to the words in the song, then to the slope of his nose, and then to his long eyelashes falling like curtains when he looks down like this. 

He’s pretty here, and there, and there, and even there. He’s pretty everywhere, and Yeonjun just can’t stop _looking._

Beomgyu finishes his little busking performance shortly after, a shy smile playing on his lips as his friends wolf-whistle and clap their hands. He seems to be enjoying seventh grade just fine, Yeonjun thinks.

Then he turns around, eyes straight at him like he knows he’s been watching all along.

Yeonjun feels his throat catch fire, gulps once, then twice. Beomgyu smiles and waves his hand.

“Hi hyung!”

He splutters for a response before settling with a choked up “H-hey!”

Beomgyu grins, eyes crinkling like they always do when he’s happy, then turns his attention back to his friends again.

Yeonjun lets out the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

“No way,” Soobin breathes out beside him. “No. Way.”

“Please don’t say it,” Yeonjun covers his face with his hands, feeling the heat in his skin. “Soobin, please.”

Soobin laughs, loud enough to catch everyone else's attention, and then hits him in the arm. “Oh my god, I _fucking_ knew it.” 

That was the first time he has ever heard him curse. Yeonjun just wants to crawl down six feet under the earth and bury himself there until he loses air.

  
  


➷

“Hyung,” he feels a light tap against his cheek. “Hyung, wake up.”

Yeonjun adjusts his eyes to the dark of Beomgyu’s room. The lights have been turned off, probably for a while now after he fell asleep, and the only thing illuminating the room is the moon seen from Beomgyu’s open balcony. He sits up, rubbing the sleep off his eyes, yawning.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Beomgyu greets. He’s changed out of his cardigan from earlier to a simple white shirt and sweatpants, oversized bomber jacket over it. He points to the clock on his wall. “It is officially three in the morning, which means it’s time to commence Wishlist number two.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Yeonjun just says, still tired.

“Get up, get up,” Beomgyu pulls him by the arm. “Let’s go get coffee from the convenience store in the next street so it’ll energize you.”

“They have terrible coffee though,” Yeonjun scowls.

“Exactly. The anger will wake you right up,” Beomgyu grins. He tugs on his arm again. “Come on, hyung.”

If anything, it’s his excitement over this little wish that makes him get out of bed and fix himself to go, but Yeonjun is never telling him that.

The streets are—as expected—very quiet. All the houses in the neighborhood have their lights turned off at this time of the night already, the only ones accompanying them now are the moon and the lights from the street posts every three houses. There are little to no stars in the sky tonight.

“God, it’s so cold,” Yeonjun complains, shivering. He crosses his arms over his chest and rubs on them for a little bit of heat.

“I told you to wear thicker clothes, didn’t I?” Beomgyu just rolls his eyes at him. “But _no_ , of course you wouldn’t listen. All for the sake of _fashion_. Who are you even trying to impress in a convenience store?”

“I dress to impress _myself_ ,” Yeonjun corrects, this time blowing on his palms and rubbing them together. “God, I can’t feel my hands.”

Beomgyu sighs, and moves closer, suddenly hugging him from behind. Yeonjun jumps at the sudden touch.

“H-hey—hey, what are you doing?”

“Warming you up, duh,” Beomgyu answers, peeking a little from behind him.

They’re struggling to walk in this position, but Beomgyu doesn’t let go and neither does Yeonjun fight the arms wrapped around his waist.

“This is kinda nice though,” Beomgyu giggles.

“It’s gonna take us an hour to reach the next street.”

“Well,” he holds him tighter, burying his face on the width of Yeonjun’s back. “At least, you’re not feeling that cold anymore.”

Yeonjun ignores the way it’s his whole face that catches fire instead.

It takes them an extra fifteen minutes before they finally reach the convenience store in the next street.

The fluorescent lights are a blinding kind of white, both of them squinting and adjusting from the dark when they step inside. The air conditioning is a _lot_ colder than the air outside, immediately biting on their skin harsh. The speakers in the upper corners of the room are blasting Christmas songs in March.

_Santa, tell me if you’re really there, don’t make me fall in love again if he won’t be here next year._

Yeonjun thinks the convenience store employee and Ariana Grande are both a little mean for that.

“I’m actually craving ice cream,” Beomgyu says, walking towards where the freezer is located. He leans down a little to pick up the popsicles they have available inside. 

“Aren’t you cold enough?” Yeonjun grimaces as he follows from behind, casually checking the aisle of biscuits and chips. “Do they have _Yomamte_?”

“See, I knew you’d want to as well,” Beomgyu laughs. “Peach or strawberry?”

“Well, I can’t just _watch_ you eat now, can I?” Yeonjun says defensively. “And peach, please.”

They ended up paying for two yoghurt popsicles, one peach and one strawberry-flavored, instead of the original plan to get coffee. They stay at the bench outside the store for a little while, teeth biting on the cold, as the cold evening air bites their skin right back.

“This is kinda lamer than I thought,” Beomgyu admits, chuckling.

“I told you,” Yeonjun gloats, his popsicle slowly melting in his hand. “There’s nothing special about late night walks at all. Hollywood just romanticizes it way too much.”

“It’s kind of like Christmas, don’t you think so?” Beomgyu says, feet swinging a little slow. “The anticipation for it days before makes you all giddy and up on your toes, but on the day it comes, it’s just— it’s just another day. You realize there’s nothing really special about it.”

Yeonjun finishes what remains of his ice cream, tossing the stick into the nearest trash bin. It almost misses the opening. “Why are you suddenly talking about Christmas in the middle of March?”

Beomgyu laughs a little, “Santa Tell Me playing earlier got to me.”

It’s quiet for a while, but it’s the kind of quiet that doesn’t force you to do anything about it. A comfortable kind of quiet. Yeonjun takes a deep breath, the evening air coming out like mist.

“Maybe what makes it special is who you’re with at that moment,” Beomgyu whispers softly in the silence of the night, almost like it’s a secret.

Yeonjun hears it loud and clear though. It rings in his head, and in his chest.

He kicks a stray pebble near his shoe off the asphalt. “Hollywood also romanticizes that way too much.”

Beomgyu snorts, shaking his head. “Way to ruin a moment.”

He doesn't see the red in Yeonjun’s cheeks running all the way to his ears.

Beomgyu stands up, stretching his arms. “Alright. I think I have an idea on how to make this late night escapade a little extra special.” 

Yeonjun watches him. The moonlight painting him in streaks of silver, the shadows casting on his face. From his lips, to the slope in his nose, then to his eyelashes falling like curtains when he looks down like this.

Beomgyu is pretty here, and there, and there, and even there. He is pretty everywhere.

He offers a hand to him, smiling bright and Yeonjun feels like he’s being pulled back to the boat when he was thirteen turning fourteen again. And this is the moon, him. Beomgyu, himself. Pulling the tide, over and over and over until Yeonjun’s boat tips and tips and tips, until he falls over completely.

And he’s never learned to swim so all he’ll ever do is drown.

“Would you like to be my special person in this mundane-made-special night, hyung?” he smiles. Not smug, or teasing, or sarcastic. It’s just a smile.

Yeonjun has never sailed through the night before. This is something that’s unfamiliar. 

He crosses the thought out of his head.

No, he’s been sailing through the night for years now. That’s what makes all of this much scarier.

“Do I have a choice?” Yeonjun asks back, but he’s smiling.

Beomgyu takes his hand, giggling. “Not really. You’re stuck with me."

➷

“Please do tell me how this isn’t breaking and entering,” Yeonjun demands, pulling the kickstand of his motorbike with his foot.

“Firstly, there’s no breaking in,” Beomgyu answers, hands in the pockets of his jacket, one foot hopping to the side. “We’re not breaking anything. We are just entering.”

Yeonjun stares at the building in front of them. The SunTrust building in all its 30-storey glory feels like it's glaring at them when the moonlight hits the glass panels like this.

That, or the fact that he knows they're gonna get arrested any minute now if a security guard does his rounds for the night and sees them.

Yeonjun should've known this was gonna be a bad idea when Beomgyu asked to go back to his house so they could get his motorbike. Beomgyu asking for a ride has only _ever_ led to bad ideas.

"Just trust me, hyung," he lifts up his hand like he's swearing an oath. "I would never get us arrested a day after my 18th birthday."

"How do you even think we're gonna enter unnoticed? I'm sure they have security cameras. Hell, there's literally a _guard_ over there," Yeonjun points at the small patch of light illuminating the ground floor, a figure of a man visible from where they stood.

"I know," Beomgyu shrugs, walking up the steps leading to the entrance like he’s skipping. "His name is Junghwan. He likes peach flavored ice cream too."

Yeonjun stares at him dumbfounded.

"You know the name of the guard of the SunTrust building," he says, still in disbelief. He slowly follows suit. "Right. _Of course_ you would know the name of the guard of the Suntrust building. Why does this not even surprise me?"

Yeah, Beomgyu is _very_ much well-acquainted with the guard of the SunTrust building, the said guard not even taking a second glance up when he opens the double glass doors and walks inside like this isn't the tallest building in the city and a global multi-million corporation on top of that.

"Hey, Gyu, it's been a while," the guard greets with full familiarity. He turns to Yeonjun with an amused smile, craning his neck to the side with interest. "Who's this?"

"Hey hyung. This is my bestfriend, Yeonjun hyung," Beomgyu introduces. "Yeonjun hyung, this is Junghwan hyung. The zombie that takes the graveyard shift in the SunTrust building."

"Bestfriend, huh," the guard—Junghwan says, pleased like he knows something Yeonjun doesn't. He nods at him. "'Sup."

Yeonjun just nods back. "Hey."

"Can we go up the top floor tonight?" Beomgyu points at the elevator.

Junghwan shrugs, before going back to his phone. He looks like he's only been playing PUBG the whole night, but Yeonjun can’t really blame him. This shift looks boring. "You know it's always available for you."

"You're the best, hyung," Beomgyu gives him a thumbs up. He pulls Yeonjun by the arm with a grin. "Let's go."

It's 4:45AM, his phone blinks.

As it turns out, the top floor is the corporate boardroom. The elevator opens and reveals a long table surrounded by multiple swivel chairs, and the expanse of Daegu stretching across the glass that surrounds the room. The city is dark, fast asleep with only a few flickering lights dotting the streets here and there.

It's a view, but Yeonjun thinks Seoul would look much more alive than this, always awake even in the dead hours of the night.

"It's pretty, huh?" Beomgyu muses, peeking through the glass. "It doesn't get appreciated much during the day, but when it's a night like this, it's _such_ a sight. It's one of the prettiest things I've ever seen."

Yeonjun looks again. Everything is just indigo blue. He wonders if Beomgyu’s eyes see something he doesn’t. 

"How did you even make this discovery?" he finds himself asking. “More importantly, how do you even know the Junghwan guy?”

“PUBG,” Beomgyu laughs. “And you’re not the only one with nightly escapades, hyung.”

Yeonjun furrows his eyebrows at him, but Beomgyu just shrugs. “You’ve been out past curfew before?”

“Sometimes,” he flutters his eyelashes, smiling sweetly at him. Yeonjun jabs him with his elbow. “Alright, alright. Three times at most, that’s it. Just last month too. I’ve only been going here anyway.”

“By yourself?”

Yeonjun stares at him. The moon is full tonight and the light drapes like curtains against the glass, painting Beomgyu silver. He’s staring down at the row of buildings, and buildings, and more buildings, all still asleep, almost like he’s longing for something Yeonjun can’t quite see.

Beomgyu smiles at him, but it’s anything but happy. “Being alone is nice sometimes. It helps me think.” He turns his gaze back to the glass wall. “Makes me appreciate the little things too, like this view you probably didn’t understand what I’ve been praising about and calling pretty, huh,” he chuckles.

“I mean—it’s not _bad_ ,” Yeonjun says, flustered. “But I think there are prettier things in the world.”

“Really?” Beomgyu’s smile doesn’t fade, eyes gleaming with interest. “Like what?”

The moon, when it’s full like this. Magnetic and entrancing, forces you to really look.

Seoul, when it’s loud and boisterous and burning bright and alive. When skyscrapers stretch across the horizon like they’re never-ending, and the streets never die down or fall asleep.

You. _You._ Here, and there, and there, and even there. You, everywhere.

“There’s this cliffside point,” Yeonjun says instead. “I found it one day when I was driving around. It’s in an area with higher altitude so the clouds feel like they’re just within reach,” he shares, a bit dramatically, hands spread wide. “And it’s the prettiest when it’s at sunset too, and you witness the orange of the sun blend with the clouds. It’s really _so_ pretty.”

“Hm, it does sound like it is,” Beomgyu replies, a little wistful. “So, when are you planning to show me that view?”

Yeonjun turns to him, “Isn’t one of your wishes for you to drive for a road trip? I think we can make a quick stop.”

“Sounds like a plan then,” he chuckles lightly before turning again to look back at the expanse of the city in front of them. “Hyung, I think I know now why I find this view pretty.”

“Because it’s quiet?” Yeonjun tries. “Serene? Peaceful?

Beomgyu shakes his head. “Not really. You know I’ve always lived loud. I’ve never been the type to seek the quiet but,” he glances at him, still smiling but his eyes have never looked sadder. He feels his heart still for a moment.

“I think some things just end up looking prettier when you know you’re gonna miss them.”

Yeonjun pauses, stills.

He knows Beomgyu means Daegu. The hot summers, and the cold evenings. The storms and the cloudy days. The buildings, tall and short. The streets and the houses in their neighborhood. The familiarity tucked in between the expanse of the city stretched across from them.

Yeonjun finds himself hoping he’s one of those prettier things too.

“And this too,” he hears Beomgyu say beside him, taking in a deep breath and then exhales. “You have your sunset. I have my sunrise too.”

It’s a couple minutes past 5AM. Yeonjun doesn’t remember ever being awake before to see the sun rise in the morning, but he knows he has never seen one more beautiful than this.

The indigo blue melts into a golden yellow from below, the sun peeking out of the buildings slowly, and slowly, and slowly. Gold burns through the glass of the Suntrust building, painting them yellow but it’s a burn that doesn’t hurt. It’s just warm against their skin.

It’s a view, one you’d miss forever.

"Guess this could count for Wishlist number three too. Catch the sunrise on a rooftop view," Beomgyu chuckles. Yeonjun glances at him. He still has that wistful look in his eyes, the kind of longing that hurts just by looking even when you’re not the one feeling it.

Yeonjun can’t keep pretending he doesn’t see it. So he braves himself to ask, “How much will you miss this when you leave?” 

By this, Yeonjun means the city. The prettier, familiar things.

Beomgyu is golden in front of the sunrise. Hair painted with streaks of yellow light, warm and enthralling. He’s pretty at night, and he’s prettier in broad daylight.

He turns towards Yeonjun, pauses and just lets himself look for a moment. Looks at him like he knows he means something else. There’s a smile, not smug or sarcastic or teasing but it makes his heart drop. 

Beomgyu’s gaze softens. “Far beyond what you can even imagine.”

Yeonjun is unfamiliar with sailing at night, so his fear of the dark comes following him every single time.

But he’s sailed through this ocean countless times before when the sun is out, when it’s blinding and burning against his skin. At daytime, he can see the expanse of everything. Here is somewhere familiar, and there, and there, and over there. There are no uncharted territories because he has seen all of these before.

The curve of his lips. The slope of his nose. The way his long eyelashes fall like curtains. Beomgyu’s eyes like ocean waters.

This is familiar. He can just dive in them unafraid because he knows this, and the sun is out so he can see where he’s meant to go. He has the map tattooed in the back of his mind. This should be fine.

“What about me?” Another surge of courage. His mouth tastes like lead. “Will you miss me too?”

Beomgyu is the moon, so he can’t pull the tide in the morning if he’s not there, but Yeonjun still feels his boat rock, shaking.

“You’re my Yeonjun hyung after all,” he says, the saddest he has ever seen his eyes look. “I’ll miss you forever. I will never miss you enough.”

Beomgyu is the moon, and the ocean, and the earth. He’s the entire universe, this is what Yeonjun realizes.

No one’s ever been afraid in the presence of daylight. Yeonjun is probably the first.

  
  


➷

“How on earth do you even eat that?”

“It’s not _that_ sour,” Beomgyu just shrugs, putting the slice down and takes a sip of his lemonade.

Yeonjun scrunches his face, “You were literally just biting on a _lemon_ slice. What do you mean it’s not that _sour?_ ”

“It really isn’t,” he chuckles. Beomgyu hands him one. “Try it.”

Yeonjun knows he’s gonna regret it eventually but he lets his curiosity take over and does what he’s told. He takes a bite on the lemon slice and immediately puts it right back on the plate, face filled with absolute regret as predicted.

“Fuck, it’s _sour as hell_.”

Beomgyu’s laugh echoes across the empty diner.

It’s a quarter to six in the morning. They’re inside both their favorite diner that opens for 24 hours and serves a mean plate of eggs and waffles, Yeonjun’s favorite. What Beomgyu likes about the place, however, are the small booths where they’re seated in and the tiny jukebox available in every table that plays a lot of old songs.

He slips in a coin and presses play.

“Of course you would choose this,” Yeonjun shakes his head, smiling when he hears the familiar sound of the soft guitar intro, and then the first line.

_I don’t know you, but I want you all the more for that._

“You know I always play ‘Falling Slowly’ first whenever we go here,” Beomgyu smiles back. He turns the knob of the volume a little bit, the song now playing a little louder. “I wanted to try coming here earlier than we usually do just so I can do this. We never get to hear the songs properly when there’s too many people.”

The diner is empty, save for them, an old man at the other end of the room and the lady with the big pearl earrings and cherry red lipstick who serves and takes their orders, watching TV by the register. The jukebox is loud, but not enough to distract her from the show she’s watching.

“You act like you can’t listen to this song anywhere else but here.”

Beomgyu shrugs. “It’s different when it’s here, okay?”

It is a little different, Yeonjun admits. When he listens to it here, it always feels like he’s time travelling back to his childhood. He’s a little younger and there are lesser worries in the world and his biggest problem is possibly falling in love with his bestfriend.

Minah— the lady at the register, as what her nameplate says, Yeonjun notices— comes to their table at the ending seconds of the song, carrying a tray with their food.

“Are you guys ordering anything else?” she asks, looking at Yeonjun as she pulls out a notepad and a pen from her apron.

“Ah, no. This is fine for now. Thank you,” he answers politely. He takes a sip from his glass of water.

She then turns to Beomgyu with a sweet smile. “And what about the boyfriend?”

Yeonjun splutters, almost spilling drops of water on the table, ears burning hotter than Mercury. Beomgyu doesn’t seem to be all that fazed about it, just flashes Minah a smile back.

“Ah, no. We’re good, thank you,” he says with a shake of his head.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Yeonjun finds himself clarifying, still obviously blushing. “We’re—he’s, he’s my friend. We’re bestfriends.”

Minah snorts, tucks the pen over her ear and shakes her head. “That’s what they _all_ say, and then the next month, they all come back here eating each other’s faces off in front of my pancakes. Kids these days,” she laughs loudly, walking her way back to the counter.

Yeonjun just feels his cheeks burn even more.

“Do we really look like we’re dating?” Beomgyu says, amused. “I can’t count how many times we’ve been mistaken as a couple.”

“People are just assuming sometimes,” Yeonjun sips on his cola, avoiding eye contact.

“Anyway, this crosses number 4 on my wishlist,” Beomgyu counts, showing four fingers. “Fourteen more to go. Let’s complete the wishlist before graduation ball, hyung.”

 _The grad ball_ , he’s reminded again. Yeonjun picks on the omelette with his fork. “Are you really sure about taking me to the dance?”

Beomgyu hums, “I really don’t have anyone else in mind, hyung.”

“But wouldn’t it be better to, like,” Yeonjun is making weird hand gestures. “You know, take someone who’s _still_ in highschool? I’m already done with my own graduation ball.”

“There are no rules about who we should take to the dance, hyung. One of my classmates is literally taking her college boyfriend to the dance.”

 _Well, they’re dating so that’s a reasonable excuse_ , Yeonjun thinks but doesn’t say out loud.

“It’ll be fun, hyung. Come on,” Beomgyu urges. “I really don’t wanna spend that night with anyone else but you.”

Yeonjun sighs, accepting defeat. There’s always no winning an argument he has already lost before it even started. “Alright, alright. Fine.”

Beomgyu grins, wide and full. Yeonjun can never say no to him.

They continue eating their food in comfortable silence, Beomgyu sliding a coin to play ABBA songs on the small jukebox next, and then Air Supply. It’s half past seven in the morning and a few people are coming in now for a cup of coffee to start the day. The music slowly starts getting drowned by the noise of footsteps and the door creaking whenever it opens and closes. 

Yeonjun finished his food a little while ago already, now just waiting for Beomgyu to be done too. He notices the younger fidgeting a little, fork flipping what remains of his pancakes. 

Beomgyu must’ve noticed his eyes on him when he brings his head up to meet his gaze. Yeonjun is giving him a questioning look, like he already knows there’s something Beomgyu is itching to say.

“How’s uncle?” he finally asks, biting on his lips immediately when the question slips out of him. “I—I saw your mom the other day, and she looked so tired, hyung. Has she been resting enough?”

Yeonjun knows Beomgyu is worried too. He grew up with Yeonjun’s parents, just as much as he grew up with his. It was natural for him to be concerned too, and he knows they’ve been avoiding talking about it for a long while now but they can’t keep pretending like nothing’s wrong forever.

“Still not good,” Yeonjun sighs. “Mom hasn’t slept in the house for a month now. She’s always at the hospital. Dad’s got another major operation in three weeks time.”

Beomgyu slides his hand over his, consoling. His is still a lot smaller than Yeonjun’s, always has been.

“He’ll be okay soon. He will,” he assures him, meaning it. Beomgyu has always been a believer, always has more faith than him. “He’s a strong man.”

Yeonjun gives him a small smile, grateful. “Thank you.”

Beomgyu smiles back, but it falls a little short. Yeonjun knows there’s still something else he wants to talk about.

Seoul. Sungkyunkwan University. _What about you, hyung? Will you ever leave this town? Will you just keep waiting?_

He doesn’t say any of it, keeping his silence, and Yeonjun is a little thankful.

He speaks up on his place instead, “College gonna kick you in the ass in less than a month. Good luck, kid.”

“Yeah,” Beomgyu snorts, looking a little relieved at the change of atmosphere. “ _Really_ not looking forward to that at all.”

Yeonjun smiles at him. “You’ll do well.” He means it.

Beomgyu leans back on his seat, a little comfortable. “You really think so?”

“You’re Beomgyu after all. You always do well.”

“But that’s _you_ ,” he retorts, getting up. “You’re Yeonjun hyung after all, so you always do everything well, while I’m just Beomgyu. I just try my best to do well.”

 _At least you try, and try, and try,_ is what Yeonjun wants to say. What happens to stars when they burn out? 

“But you still always do well in the end,” Yeonjun just says, leaning forward a little. “Isn’t that what matters?”

Beomgyu hums, and then falls into a light laugh. “I’m gonna keep calling you every time the self-doubt kicks in from now on. Be ready for the video calls 24/7, hyung.”

Yeonjun shakes his head, “I won’t even go to sleep just so I can answer them.”

“You’re the best,” Beomgyu smiles, bright and blinding. “You’re my Yeonjun hyung after all.”

Yeonjun smiles. _He’s a good hyung_ , he thinks.

➷

> **Choi Beomgyu’s 18th Birthday Wishlist**
> 
> **(that Choi Yeonjun is legally obligated to fulfill)**

  1. > ~~Get a pet dog. Give him the sickest name ever.~~

  2. > ~~Go out past curfew. Walk the streets at 3AM.~~

  3. > ~~Catch the sunrise on a rooftop view.~~

  4. > ~~Diner @ 5AM.~~

  5. > Go to a nightclub and get unbelievably drunk.

  6. > Experience a hangover! And be taken care of during a hangover.

  7. > Go on a fancy dinner date. Champagne is a MUST.

  8. > SHOPPING. Get a Yeonjun-approved outfit for the first day in college!

  9. > Receive a long heartfelt letter. Stationary and fancy envelopes and all that shit!

  10. > Go on a camping trip.

  11. > Drive a car for a road trip.

  12. > Run down the shore during sunset.

  13. > Go stargazing and slow dancing under the moonlight.

  14. > ~~GOD THIS IS EMBARRASSING idk how to write this FUCK u’ll know when u do~~ Codename: Ed Sheeran

  15. > Go busking. Sing a song in front of a crowd.

  16. > Receive a bouquet of flowers on a special night.

  17. > Attend graduation ball.

  18. 


Yeonjun counts days in his head. 

Sometimes, it’s for the good things— the happy memories, the ones he wants to keep forever, playing on his head over and over like a favorite movie that never ends. He counts the days since then, one day, two days, three. He counts until he reaches a hundred and that’s when he stops, but the memory is tucked forever in his head, little details fading but the feelings remain timeless.

More often than not, he counts for the bad days too— the ones that linger, taking root in his brain, never really disappearing. He counts for them, ten days, fifty days, a hundred. He counts for them, waiting for them to leave. 

But they never really do. 

It’s been about more than a year. He has stopped counting after the 100th, but he hasn’t forgotten, remembers that day like it only happened yesterday.

Yeonjun isn’t that big of a dreamer, but he has his own set of goals he wants to accomplish just like every other person on Earth. It’s a three-step plan he has thought of since he was thirteen: get accepted into his dream university, take up Dance as a major, perform for the rest of his life.

It’s a three-step plan. Nothing too overly complicated.

He remembers the days leading up to it. The long, sleepless nights reviewing. The mugs of coffee filled and emptied. Colored notes scribbled and highlighted. Losing track of time and not realizing midnight has already turned to morning. 

Yeonjun isn’t a believer of a lot of things, but he remembers wishing, praying, just _hoping_ to any god listening out there to grant him this one wish, just this once.

His answer comes in one fancy white envelope dropped into his mailbox on a day in January, one slip of paper holding all of his dreams in neat script, Times New Roman.

_Congratulations! We are delighted to inform you that you have been accepted into the Department of Dance of Sungkyunkwan University this upcoming semester._

_Choi Yeonjun. Incoming first year._

It’s a three-step plan. Nothing too overly complicated. A flight of stairs with three steps, just that.

Everything was supposed to fall perfectly into place then.

Yeonjun remembers the sounds, one afternoon in April, a week before he was supposed to leave. For Seoul, for the city with skyscrapers that stretch across the horizon and busy streets that never sleep.

There’s a loud, harsh thud against the wooden floor of the record store. His father’s voice choked up, gasping for air. A lady at the corner, shrieking in horror. A misplaced vinyl record scratching against the turntable.

It feels like the longest night of his life, but he loses that piece of paper in a matter of seconds, a harsh strike of wind snatching it from his fingertips before he could even reach out to stop it from slipping away along with all of his plans for the future.

It was supposed to be just a simple three-step plan, but Yeonjun doesn’t see past the first step.

He remembers how white the walls were in his dad’s hospital room, and the smell of both insulin and dread hanging in the air. It’s suffocating, sickening.

He remembers his mother crying. Crying, and crying, and crying. She never stopped crying that night. It’s not the first time his dad has been sent to the hospital, but he knows this was way worse than all the other times he had lied down on this bed, under this haunting fluorescent light. 

His mother doesn’t let go of his dad’s hand for the longest time.

They had a fight, he remembers. Right before this, his parents weren’t on proper speaking terms. They’ve been arguing over money a lot more lately. Yeonjun pretends he doesn’t hear it when he wakes up in the morning and when he’s in his room at night trying to fall asleep. 

He remembers his uncles coming in to visit, hearing them say it’s better to just sell their property and they can just move in with their other relatives. That meant letting go of the record store, letting go of their house.

For the hospital bills. For Yeonjun’s college funds.

If his dad was well right now, he would never ever think of selling their property. Not the record store, never. He would never hand it to anyone, even over his dead body.

Yeonjun remembers the guilt pooling in his stomach, making him want to throw up.

He has never been selfish, doesn’t ever want to be selfish. So he doesn’t ask for things he can’t have, only ever settles for what he can, and he knows right now, it’s not what he wants. He can’t have what he wants. Not yet.

“I won’t go,” he remembers telling his mom when his father had fallen asleep again.

She turns to him, eyes still tired and red. “Honey, what do you mean? Go where?”

“College,” he’s looking down on the floor. His shoes are a little worn out now. “I won’t go,” he repeats. He’s supposed to be leaving in three days. 

“Yeonjun, what are you talking about? You’ve always wanted this. You’ve always dreamt about this,” she sits down next to him, holding his hands. Hers are so wrinkled now compared to years ago, fingers calloused. “Junie, you don’t need to sacrifice for us, you hear me? I’ll figure out a way somehow. We’ll get through this.”

Yeonjun shakes his head, “I’m not going, Mom.”

“Yeonjun,” she breathes out, voice tired. She’s always so tired now. “I’ll be fine here. I can take care of your dad. Your aunt has a place in Seoul. You can just stay there, and—"

“Mom, I said I won’t go,” he grits his teeth. “Who’s gonna take care of the store? I’m not letting uncle sell the store, mom. Dad would absolutely hate that.”

“Honey—” 

“And who’s gonna take care of you when you’re too busy taking care of dad?” Yeonjun shakes his head. “I’m not going. I’m staying here,” he says with finality.

She looks at him sadly, but she doesn’t argue back. The piece of paper slips from his line of sight just like that.

His mother had stopped crying that night, or at least in front of him. But she has never stopped looking apologetic since then.

_This is good. I’m good. This will all be good._

Yeonjun just wants to be good.

He has been called brave. A dutiful son. He always ignores the ‘but’ that always follows right after. 

_But he could’ve been great. But he could’ve been more._

“You’re still great, hyung,” Beomgyu says, one night. Yeonjun’s mom isn’t coming home again tonight, and Beomgyu is sleeping over again. He’s been coming over more and more lately.

“You don’t need college to be great,” he continues. They’re lying down on the futon he had set up on the floor. Yeonjun’s bed isn’t big enough for them both anymore. “And you don’t need to go to college right away. You go at your own pace. It doesn’t make you any less of a person.”

“Maybe,” Yeonjun whispers. He stares at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck on his ceiling.

“Hyung,” Beomgyu gets up, sitting down. “Hyung, look at me.”

His room is dark, only the moonlight reflecting through his window accompanying them. But Beomgyu is bright even here. His shine never dies down.

“You’re great. You’re always great, and you will always be great to me,” and he knows Beomgyu means every word he says because he’s Beomgyu, eyes gleaming and twinkling like they always do.

Yeonjun thinks he’s too high up the pedestal Beomgyu had placed him in, but he’s thankful nonetheless.

He smiles at him, grateful. He ruffles his hair. “You’re too good to me, Beomgyu-ya.”

Yeonjun sees the same fancy envelope on top of the counter on Friday afternoon.

“What’s this?” he asks Changbin who’s busy mopping the floor. He just cranes his head to his right, pointing. Yeonjun turns to the side of the door and sees a familiar face in a fancy dress shirt, waving at his direction.

“Hey, Jun.”

“Jimin hyung?” He blinks, surprised to see him inside the record store of all places.

Park Jimin is his senior from highschool, captain of the dance org when Yeonjun was still in eighth grade. He’s a well-known name on campus, still is. He’s their school’s pride when it comes to contemporary dance after all, and Yeonjun has always looked up to him since way back. Always wondered what it would be like to move and leap and spin as gracefully as he does, like a comet in the sky, forcing you to really look.

He’s also why Yeonjun started to dream of Sungkyunkwan University too. Someone as good, almost untouchable, as Park Jimin dreaming for something, it was enough to pique his interest. Jimin used to also share stories about college there from his older brother whenever they would have breaks during practice.

The stories were glamorized, a little exaggerated just like every other story coming from a highschool student, but they still hold some real weight to them regardless, and Yeonjun had wanted to see those stories for himself.

“It’s been a while, kid,” Jimin laughs, eyes crinkling. He pats him on the back, “Wow, you’re a lot taller than me now.”

“It’s good to see you again, hyung,” Yeonjun says, still a bit stunned. “I haven’t seen you in years. What are you doing here?”

“I came back to Daegu a few weeks ago. You know, just a little break. Thought it would be nice to visit the folks since it’s been a while,” Jimin says, hands on his pockets. Yeonjun remembers he already graduated a few years ago, now residing in Seoul where he currently works. 

Jimin turns to him, consoling. “And yeah, I heard about what happened?”

“Ah,” Yeonjun just says. Everyone always brings that up whenever they see him after a while, so it doesn’t surprise him Jimin knows about it too.

“I’m sure you’re tired of everyone’s pity talks though so I won’t talk about it more,” Jimin tells him instead. “But I do wish for your dad’s speedy recovery. He’ll always be in my prayers, Jun.”

Yeonjun smiles, genuinely. “Thank you, hyung.”

“Anyway, yeah, so I heard about that from an old friend. I accidentally bumped into him last week at the grocery store actually,” Jimin starts to share, chuckling a little. “And _that_ friend actually asked me if I knew anything about a scholarship grant for Sungkyunkwan?”

Yeonjun looks at him with wide eyes, then at the envelope he’s holding, and then back at him. “Sungkyunkwan?” 

Jimin nods, “Luckily, I did find a few brochures at home, so he asked me to drop by here if I can and give them to you.” He taps a finger on the envelope in Yeonjun’s hands. “They’re all there, kid.”

Yeonjun opens the envelope and sees several pamphlets in colored glossy paper, SKKU big and bold in the logo. He looks back up at Jimin again, eyes wide, “Somebody— somebody asked you to give _these..._ to _me_? Who would even—”

Jimin laughs, loud like Yeonjun had just said something ridiculous. “Are you _really_ asking me who? I’m sure you already know.” 

He gives him a knowing smile, and Yeonjun pauses, stills, blinking as he looks back on the brochures in his hands. _Could it be?_

“I think that kid likes you a whole lot more than you think,” Jimin says, grinning like he knows a little secret no one else knows.

Yeonjun ignores the way his ears burn, running down to his face.

 _Could it really be him?_ But then, he thinks again, who else would go out of his way like this just for him? His highschool friends wouldn’t; he hasn’t even talked to them in a while now. Soobin would, but he doesn’t know Jimin personally. All signs lead to only one person, and even if there weren’t any signs, Yeonjun knows there can only be one person. There’s literally no one else but him.

“I’m a little hurt,” Jimin comments, laughing. “He's a lot taller than me now. He used to be so small. Always trailing behind you, carrying that huge guitar case with him. Does he still play?”

“Yeah, he plays the guitar for the school choir, and does a few band gigs sometimes,” Yeonjun answers fondly, briefly musing over the memory of the 13-year old who would play songs on the guitar by the bleachers and wait for him with his bike with the training wheels by the school gates.

“That’s nice. He always looked so happy playing the guitar.” Jimin cranes his neck to the side. “Or is it because he knows someone in the audience who is always watching?”

Yeonjun coughs, clearing his throat. Jimin lets out a hearty laugh.

“You guys are so cute,” he says, shaking his head with an amused smile. “Are you two really still not together after all these years?”

“We’re not,” Yeonjun stumbles over his words, terribly awful at masking the blush on his cheeks. “We’re not like that, hyung.”

“And why not?”

Yeonjun blinks, not really knowing how to answer that. “We’re just… not that. He’s my bestfriend.”

“I said that too when I was 19,” Jimin snorts, but stops pushing. He gives Yeonjun another pat on the shoulder. “Anyway, yeah, I just came here to drop this. I’m driving back to Seoul this evening so I thought it would be good to give this to you now.”

“Oh,” Yeonjun closes the envelope, attempting to return it to him. “Hyung, I don’t think I can—”

“I’m not telling you to apply now if that’s what you’re worried about. Go at your own pace,” Jimin assures him. Another pat on the shoulder. “I’m just here to say the door is still very much open for you, Yeonjun-ah. You’re still _so_ young. You have so much more ahead of you.”

 _Will you ever leave this town? Will you just keep on waiting?_ He hears a voice in his head.

Jimin says goodbye, and Yeonjun is left staring at the fine print on the brochures in his hands.

 _Sungkyunkwan University. 1398. Seoul, South Korea._ That one slip of paper now back in his hands again, like it just flew its way back.

Yeonjun turns his phone on to make a call, but he’s already been beaten to it, a message notification staring right back at him.

> **From: Kkyu**
> 
> _Did Jimin hyung come see you today? I hope he didn’t say anything weird lol_
> 
> _Anyway, party on Saturday, 9pm. And yes, there will be alcohol of course. Be cute ;)_

"Of course it was you," Yeonjun just shakes his head, smiling as he types out a reply.

He thinks back to all the times when Beomgyu had been like this. It's never been something they talked about out loud before, but Yeonjun has always noticed.

When he intentionally leaves Yeonjun the bigger pieces whenever they eat. When he scoots a little more to the edge so Yeonjun would have more bedspace. When he remembers something Yeonjun had said in passing, and gives it to him a few days later. All the thumb strokes, all the knocks on the door whenever anything bad happens.

Beomgyu always takes care of him in quiet, subtle ways. Little things on top of another.

Yeonjun finishes typing and clicks send.

> **To: Kkyu**
> 
> _Aren't you a little too good to me Beomgyu-ya_?

He stares at the white envelope in his hands again. _You’re always too good to me_.

Yeonjun turns to Changbin who has now settled himself in front of the counter, flipping through a magazine. There’s not that many people inside the store now, and it’s usually slow at this time of the day.

“Hey, I’m going out for a while. Can you look out the store for a bit?” he says, putting on his long coat.

“Hm? Sure, no problem. Got a date with the boyfriend tonight?" Changbin asks, not looking up so he doesn’t see Yeonjun splutter, choking on air with his ears all red.

“ _No,_ ” Yeonjun responds quickly, picking up his keys. “I’m just going over to Beomgyu’s for a bit. He’s not my boyfriend.”

Changbin just whistles, flipping through another page. “Never mentioned a name, but okay. Have fun.”

He chooses to ignore the comment and steps out of the store, face more flushed than the sun setting across the horizon.

  
  


Yeonjun counts days to measure memory, and counts houses to measure distance.

When he was younger, three houses used to feel a whole lot further than it actually is. Walking always felt like it would take forever, so he would take his skateboard with him and skid down the road, counting the houses as he passed by them, one then two then three.

It takes him roughly two minutes now to get to Beomgyu’s front yard by foot. Three houses are barely a distance now that he’s a lot taller and his strides are a lot longer than they used to be.

Beomgyu's house with the balcony and the white walls looms in front of him eventually, always having been big in size but no longer as big as they seemed to be all those years ago.

Yeonjun wonders about that. The size of the house. The distance he walks to get to it. If all things just get smaller over time the longer you perceive them, if that’s a part of growing up too.

"Hey, I had fun today," Yeonjun hears someone say, breaking him out of his reverie. He stops in his tracks a little past Beomgyu's garage.

"Yeah? I had fun too," Beomgyu replies back, voice light and sweet. It's only then that he sees another person standing with him outside by the front porch. "Thanks for accompanying me this afternoon. I'm really sorry for the inconvenience."

“Don’t worry, it’s cool,” Hyunjin grins, long blond hair tied in a high ponytail. “It’s my pleasure to help. Really.” Beomgyu gives him a smile back.

It’s familiar, he thinks. Yeonjun has watched far too many Nicholas Sparks movies to be able to recognize a scene crafted parallel to it. Hyunjin has his hands in his jeans' pockets, his car parked right behind him. Beomgyu is standing on his front porch, the yellow light hanging from above outshining the dimming sunset

It's a scene from a movie, almost romantic, really. Standing here, Yeonjun feels like the audience inside a cinema, simply watching the film roll out in front of him. Just another bystander of a story he’s not a part of.

There's a weird itch that settles on his skin that he doesn't particularly like, but he chooses to ignore it. His grip on the white envelope is tight.

Hyunjin jiggles the keys in his hand. "Anyway, I need to go on ahead now. I promised to be back before it gets dark out. I'll see you tomorrow?"

Beomgyu nods, “Sure, thanks again.”

He waves him goodbye as he watches Hyunjin go back to his car and when he drives off his front yard. Yeonjun watches the way his hand drops back to his side as the car slowly disappears from sight, that wistful look painting his eyes again.

_I think some things just end up looking prettier when you know you’re gonna miss them._

Yeonjun wonders if Hyunjin is one of those prettier things too.

Beomgyu takes a deep breath, about to step back inside the house when Yeonjun finds his voice again.

"Woah, was that your boyfriend? Cool car." 

Beomgyu almost yells in surprise, hand clutched in his chest as he quickly whips his head towards Yeonjun’s direction, the latter trying to act nonchalant, tiptoeing to see if the car is actually gone now. He turns to Beomgyu with a cheeky grin. 

“Sup.”

 _"Hyung?"_ Beomgyu exclaims, startled, eyes wide open. "Hyung, what are you doing here? How long have you been standing there?"

Yeonjun climbs the steps up his front porch, one then two then three, until they're meeting on eye level. Beomgyu's eyes are big, and brown, and inviting like ocean waters, all on him.

He flicks him lightly on the forehead, "Long enough. Why are you acting like a deer caught in headlights? Are you hiding something from me?"

"It's not that," Beomgyu's hand reaches for where he's been hit. "I'm just surprised to see you here."

Yeonjun lifts up the envelope in his hands. "You send this out to me and _not_ expect me to show up in front of your doorstep demanding an explanation?"

"Oh, Jimin hyung did drop by," Beomgyu takes the envelope from him, fingers running through the brochures. "You didn't reply so I thought he didn't yet."

"Why?"

Beomgyu lifts his head up to look at him. "What do you mean?"

Yeonjun has settled himself down on the little makeshift swing on his porch, one foot guiding it to move back and forth slowly. "Why did you— why did you ask Jimin hyung about Sungkyunkwan? About the scholarships, about— why did you do it?"

"Isn't it obvious already?" Beomgyu simply says with a small smile. Yeonjun feels his heart stay still.

He stares, waiting for an answer.

"Hyung, you've always," Beomgyu looks at him frowning. "You've always dreamed of this. I know you still do. I just want to help in whatever way I can. You’re my hyung after all."

“Oh,” he barely breathes out.

Yeonjun doesn’t know what kind of answer he was expecting, when this answer was something he already should’ve expected to get the moment he asked. But he can’t help the little disappointment settling in his chest, and something else he can’t quite put a name to. He shakes his head.

"You know I'm still not going to college this year, right?" he smiles at him sadly. "Or the year after that too. The scholarships would probably be unavailable already by the time I can finally go."

"Then I'll go look for another one that's available when you do," Beomgyu gives him back the envelope. "Hyung, it doesn’t matter when, if it’s now or in five years. I don’t care how long it takes, but I will do what I can to help, okay? Even if you don’t think I need to. I know you’re already thinking I don’t really need to.”

Yeonjun lets out a soft chuckle, putting down the envelope on his lap so he can reach out to pull the hem of Beomgyu’s uniform sleeve, the cuffs unbuttoned. 

“You really want me in Seoul with you that badly?” he looks up, and thinks maybe he shouldn’t have. Beomgyu’s looking right back at him.

It’s the same look from the other day. At the top floor of the SunTrust building, when indigo meets gold in the sky. Beomgyu painted in the sunrise, the saddest his eyes have ever been.

It’s the same here, when gold meets indigo in the sky again. Beomgyu painted in the sunset, eyes sad and lonely and searching. Searching his face, searching his gaze for something he’s afraid to ask out loud.

There’s an itch that settles in his skin. He doesn’t dislike it.

Beomgyu smiles at him, never smug or teasing or sarcastic. It’s just a smile, small but it fits. “Hyung,” he calls out a little too softly that it hurts. “I want you everywhere with me.”

It’s so easy to rock his boat like this. Just one gentle push and Yeonjun’s off-board.

He gives the smile back, lightly. “Everywhere?”

Beomgyu cups his face, thumbs through his cheeks. “ _Everywhere_. Wherever you go, I follow. Even if it’s to the ends of the earth. I’ll follow you anywhere.”

 _But you’re the one who’s leaving. You’re the one who’s going away._ Yeonjun doesn’t say any of it out loud. There’s still time. _There’s still time._

He pushes down Beomgyu’s head a bit so he can ruffle his hair, his dark curls soft and light against his fingers, always have been. "Beomgyu-ya, you're too good to me, you know that?"

Beomgyu looks up, eyes peeking from his disheveled fringe like a puppy, "I think I'm just the right amount of good for you, hyung."

 _For you._ Yeonjun doesn’t like to linger in nuances, but he stops for a moment. To and for barely have a splinter of a difference, but it’s there. _Good to you, good for you._ The difference is there.

He ignores the rush that crawls on his skin at the last two words, electric. _For you._ He’s sure Beomgyu doesn’t mean it in the way he thinks it does, as much as he thinks it does. So Yeonjun pushes the thought back into his head, harsh and forceful.

"That was Hyunjin who dropped you off, right?" he asks instead, changing the sails of the conversation. "I thought you said you didn't like him?"

"I don't. Not in that way at least," Beomgyu simply responds, shrugging before lolling his head to the side, looking at him smugly. "Why? Are you jealous?"

" _No_ ,” Yeonjun croaks out immediately, stumbling over what to say next. “Why would I be?"

"Right. Why would you be," Beomgyu just shakes his head, smiling to himself. 

Yeonjun pays attention, which often worked to his advantage most of the time. But some days, they’re more of a curse. He tries not to dwell on the look that passes on his face for a split second. A little sad, a little dejected. _It doesn’t mean anything._

The rush on his skin doesn’t stop crawling.

"I went to check the venue and everything for tomorrow's party. Hyunjin just accompanied me since he was free,” Beomgyu explains, now tugging on the hem of his sleeve.

“Ah,” Yeonjun simply responds. He wants to say more, but decides to leave it at that.

_You could’ve asked me. Why didn’t you ask me?_

"And we had time so we stopped by an arcade and grabbed food,” Beomgyu continues, tight-lipped smile. “Nothing big."

"So it's a date?" Yeonjun asks, as casually as he hopes he sounds like.

Beomgyu rolls his eyes at him, "It wasn’t a date."

"It kind of sounds like it though."

"Hyung, we do those all the time,” Beomgyu looks at him, the blueing of the sky casting shadows on his face, delicate. “Are they dates to you too then?"

Yeonjun stares back. He feels like he’s been caught in a mousetrap five times in a row now over the span of barely ten minutes. "It's— those are different. We're different, you know that." he manages to croak out, trying to laugh it out. "Look, you two? You look cute together."

Beomgyu snorts, "We do? Why do you sound like you want me to date Hyunjin so badly?” He pauses for a moment before turning to him again. “Do you really want me to?”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that,” Yeonjun bites down on his lip, unable to sit still. He doesn’t know why his heart is hammering in his chest, but he pretends it isn’t. “I don’t think it’s a bad idea. He seems nice. I mean, even Soobin thinks he’s nice so he must be.”

“Soobin thinks everyone is nice,” Beomgyu tilts his head to the side, eyes not leaving him. “You know I’m leaving soon. You think it’s okay for me to date now?”

Yeonjun pauses. “Is he not going to Seoul too? Wouldn’t you see each other often then?”

“Hm, yeah, he is,” Beomgyu hums, unfazed, turning to the sound of the cars passing by them. “Would it have made a difference if he weren’t? If he stayed here?”

For some reason, this also feels like another mousetrap. Like Beomgyu means more than this. Like this isn’t the real question. Yeonjun gets caught in mouse traps because he never really knows what they look like.

“But isn’t that for you to decide?” he simply says, fingers flipping through the brochures again, desperate to hold on to something, _anything_. “The distance from Seoul to Daegu... if you think about it, it’s not really that much. You just won’t get to see each other everyday or often at all, but it’s not a distance that’s… impossible. If you’re okay with it, then wouldn’t it be okay?”

Beomgyu turns his head back to look at him. “I’m not really the issue here, hyung,” he smiles. “I could be on the other side of the world and I would still be willing to take a leap if I like him enough, but would he be okay with that is the real question.”

Yeonjun watches him, just lets himself stare. The sky fading into the night painting him in shades of indigo, shadows casting on his face. Beomgyu is taller now, shoulders broader, growing more into his features every passing day.

And he’s still pretty here, too pretty that it hurts. Yeonjun doesn’t want to think about why it hurts.

“Whether or not he’s willing to take that leap with me,” Beomgyu has his hands in his pockets, evening breeze passing by him gently. “I think it depends on that more than it depends on me, don’t you think so?”

Same eyes in front of the sunrise, missing the prettier things.

Yeonjun knows this isn’t about Hyunjin anymore. It was never really about him. He’s not sure if he wants to know what those eyes are really looking for.

“So I guess it’s a good thing that he’ll be there with you then,” Yeonjun isn’t sure if he’s still breathing, but he tries to let out a chuckle. “In Seoul. Then you won’t have to worry about that.”

Beomgyu just shakes his head, smiling to himself like he got something he expected to come. “I’ll think about that when I actually end up liking him.” He turns to the door, then back at him. “Anyway, do you want to stay for dinner? Mom’s ordering takeout but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind one more.”

“Oh no, I can’t stay,” Yeonjun says, standing up, feeling awfully relieved at the end of the conversation. "Actually, I need to head back now. I only told Changbin I'll be out for a while."

"Alright,” Beomgyu nods as Yeonjun picks up the envelope and steps down the porch. “Take care on your way back, hyung."

Yeonjun chuckles, "It's just three houses away."

"You don't know what would jump you in that distance," Beomgyu shrugs, holding his door open. "I'll see you at the party tomorrow then?”

He smiles at him. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  
  


Yeonjun walks his way back home on foot. It feels so much closer now than it did all those years ago. 

Three houses aren’t that much of a distance by foot, he thinks. Three hundred kilometers isn’t that far away by train either.

The rain pours down on his window sill that night. It’s the first time it rained in months.


End file.
